Of Threnodies and Roses
by Quiet2885
Summary: Modern Retelling. Leroux Undertones. He began as an Angel that came to her one frightening night. As Christine is slowly swept up into a dangerous and passionate obsession, will she survive his dark world....and even darker past? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

I** know there are a ton of modern day stories out there, but I decided to take a try at one. Truthfully, this is somewhat of an original story idea that morphed into a phan fiction. The first few chapters are going to be mostly original ideas that kind of make up for the "Angel of Music" scenario which would be less believable in a modern day setting. After that, it's going to follow the events of the book to a certain degree. Names will be the same as in the book. Some places in the story will be real, and some will be fictional. I've tried to stay fairly accurate in details but feel free to tell me of any blatant inaccuracies.**

**This is going to be a darker modern day story. My Erik, whom you will not see for several chapters, is going to remain fairly mysterious throughout. There is no Raoul bashing in this fic, either. For those who want to know the ending pairing before hand, you can look at the reviews for the last chapter of the story. Or you can private message me, and I'll tell you. Otherwise, I'll let you read to find out. **

**Thank you! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own _The Phantom of the Opera_. It belongs to the great mind of Gaston Leroux.** **A few details are taken from _Phantom_, which is owned by Susan Kay.**

An endless sea of faces.

That's what college had been when she had started three years ago. That's what it still was. One large collage of brunettes and blondes, blue eyes and brown eyes, dark skins and light skins...all mingling together with a single purpose.

As Christine Daae looked out upon the grassy campus of the University of Vermont, waiting for her friend on a bench under an old elm tree, she felt oddly out of place among the thousands of other souls. An autumn breeze rustled the bare branches above her, causing her to shiver slightly as she took out her chicken salad sandwich from its foil wrapping. The voices of the other students came from all directions, mostly indiscernible and distant. Smoothing out her blonde, windblown hair with one hand, Christine glanced around again for her one and only friend.

Meg Giry had a consistent habit of being late to everything, so it was really no surprise this time. Still, Christine found it awkward just sitting there alone when everyone else was gathered into groups of up to a dozen. She took a small nibble of her somewhat soggy sandwich and continued to wait, pretending to look down at one of her notebooks as if she were studying something important. The wind blew some of the pages around, bending and creasing them, and Christine quickly closed it before her notes were destroyed. Not that they were very well written anyway.

"Christine!" a voice finally called from nearby, and she looked up to see her chestnut haired friend smiling and waving from the middle of the courtyard. Meg always had a big grin on her face, even on the most miserable of days. Perhaps that was why she was so fun to be around.

"Hi Meg!" she called, waving her over with a free hand. Meg quickly said goodbye to several guys she had been talking to and jogged up to the bench, brushing a strand of hair from her mouth.

"You look lonely over here!" commented Meg with a smile. "I should have introduced you to those guys. They're in my scene design class. Craig is hilarious with some of the things he draws up."

Christine gave a half smile. "I doubt I would have much to say to them. I'm exhausted today."

"You worked the late shift again?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "I wasn't supposed to, but Daniel couldn't find anyone else. Anyway, it's extra money, and I need it with the increase in tuition."

"Well, don't work too hard," replied Meg, finally sitting down and digging out a bag of potato chips from her backpack.

Christine rolled her eyes but smiled at her friend's carefree attitude. Of course, Meg's parents were paying her entire way through with little trouble. She could afford the occasional slip up or set back and had already changed her degree three times, finally settling on theater this last year.

"Have you declared a major yet?" asked Meg, attempting to wipe the grease from her fingers. "I know you were still thinking about it last spring."

"Yes," said Christine, hesitating for a long moment and casting her blue eyes to the ground. "I think I'm going with a bachelor's in music education. That's what...the advisor recommended at least."

Meg cocked her head. "So...what exactly does a music education major do?"

Christine looked up from her chicken sandwich, realizing uncomfortably that she wasn't even completely sure of the answer. She had adored music and singing since she was a small child, and it had been a part of her life in more ways than she could count. At the same time, she could not find it within herself to take up performing, not with all the distant memories it would bring back. Her advisor had finally suggested music education as an alternative route, and Christine had wearily accepted it. Nothing else had even somewhat interested her.

"It's just like any education concentration," she finally replied. "You...study how to teach other people music."

"Like a music teacher at school?" Meg said with a laugh, popping open a Mountain Dew and taking a sip of it. "I remember my insane music teacher in elementary school. She had a new hat for every day of the week."

Christine laughed, glad Meg was able to make light of the situation. "I doubt I want to teach kids. Actually, I really don't know what I want to do with it."

Meg shrugged. "You'll figure it out soon." They ate in silence for several moments, watching everyone else on the campus. A couple of guys had started a game of frisbee on one side, and another girl was yelling and chasing after a Golden Retriever that had gotten out of its leash. Several puffy clouds were making their way across the blue sky, casting shadows over the ground and cooling the already chilly October air.

After several minutes, Meg yawned and checked her watch. "I guess I'd better get out of here. Me and some of the girls from my choreography club are getting together this afternoon." She paused. "You're welcome to come with us. We always need an audience."

"No. I have some work to get done. Have fun, though. I'll call you after work this evening if Mrs. Valerius doesn't need help with anything back home. She hasn't been feeling well lately."

"Call me if you can, then," replied Meg with another bright smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, anyway." She turned and rushed off toward the parking lot, leaving Christine alone once again.

With a sigh, she finished her sandwich and began to gather up her bag and coat. Another gust of wind shook the tree above her, knocking the last few leaves off their branches and to the ground. Looking up, Christine noticed a large bulletin board several feet to the side of her, overcrowded with various announcements and advertisements. One large pink flier seemed to wave directly out to her, as if beckoning her over to it.

Curiously, Christine walked over and squinted at the torn piece of paper. It was an announcement for tryouts for a local production of _Show Boat_. Though theater majors were strongly desired, all were welcomed to audition. Several fairly prestigious stage actors from New York were going to be involved with the show, and the money earned from it would be donated to a renowned charity.

After glancing it over, Christine shook her head and quickly strolled away from it.

That was the last thing she needed on her mind at the moment.

* * *

The second hand continued its way around the face of the clock upon the wall, seeming to taunt Christine with its slow and steady pace. Five minutes left until she was free to leave. Five agonizing minutes. 

She sighed and tapped the end of her pen against the front desk of The Apollo Hotel, hoping no more guests would come by that night. It was a Wednesday in the middle of the fall, meaning the building remained fairly vacant. Only three guests had rented rooms so far that night, and Christine had spent most of the evening catching up on her school work. God knew, she needed to keep her grades up or else risk losing the few scholarships that she had.

Christine yawned and looked around the silent lounge, her eyes too tired to study anymore. Three black leather couches sat empty around a small table with a single white coffee mug upon it. Several stray newspapers from that morning lay scattered about, and the trash by the breakfast area was beginning to overflow. She knew Daniel would not be happy if the cleaning staff did not get that tidied up soon. He was a fair manager, Christine had found, but he definitely had his standards.

Just as she had closed her books and zipped her backpack open to put them in, the bell above the entrance jingled, and the door squeaked open. Christine glanced up and expected to see Pamela, the desk clerk for most of the night, coming in for her shift. Instead, her eyes settled on an unfamiliar middle-aged man who was cautiously approaching the front desk.

Putting on a smile, she looked him over quickly as she did all of the guests. His skin was darkly toned, and he appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. Except for light stubble around his chin, the man had a very neat appearance, dressed nicely in loose grey trousers and a white dress shirt. In one hand, he carried a brown leather briefcase that appeared to be heavily weighed down by its contents. His dark eyes were tired but kind as he came up to her and retrieved his wallet from his pocket with his free hand.

"Good evening, sir," Christine began with a smile. "How can I help you tonight?"

"Good evening, ma'am" he replied in a moderately accented voice as he took out a credit card. "I would like one bedroom for three nights. Non-smoking, if you have it."

"Could I get your last name, please?" she asked, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear and positioning her fingers over the computer keys.

He hesitated for a long a moment and slowly withdrew the Visa. A strange expression crossed his face, as if he had suddenly realized something unsettling. "I...perhaps I will not stay here tonight after all."

Christine looked at him in bewilderment as he slowly backed away from her. "Okay," she replied, narrowing her eyes in concern. "Are you...all right, sir?"

"Yes," he replied curtly. "I'm sorry to bother you. Have a good night." The man whirled around and headed back into the hotel parking lot at a very quick pace. A moment after he exited, the door rang again, and Pamela Miyagi entered.

"Sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed, running a hand through her shiny black hair. She noticed Christine's furrowed brow. "Is something wrong?"

"No," replied Christine, shaking her head and bending down to gather her things. "Just a strange guy came in to get a room but left when I asked him his name." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if applying for the later shift was the best idea."

"Tell me about it! We get the weirdest people around here at night." Pamela poured herself a cup of complimentary coffee from the counter and made her way to the front desk. A pair of dangling silver earrings hung from her ears, and she wore a loose though modest blue peasant top that matched nicely with her darker complexion. Christine had always imagined her to be a lot of fun, though they only saw each other during work.

Pamela looked up at the wall next to the counter as she sipped her coffee. "Eep!" She gave a fake scream of fright and pointed a ringed finger upwards.

"What is it?" asked Christine, turning her head. "Oh!" she said with a laugh as she looked at the grinning plastic skeleton hanging on the wall. Daniel had a tradition of decorating the hotel lobby for the holidays. Several plastic bats hung from the ceiling, and an orange pumpkin jar filled with candy corn sat out upon the counter.

Pamela shook her head and giggled. "When I was seven, I saw this horror movie with my older brother where these skeletons rose out of the ground. Ever since then, they've scared the hell out of me."

"Maybe you could take it down!" offered Christine, still smiling as she gathered up her belongings.

"Nah! I need to grow up and get over it." Pamela strolled up with mock confidence to the desk and sat down, casting a nervous side-glance to the decoration but still grinning.

"Okay," replied Christine, wishing she could stay and chat a while longer. Sighing, she picked up her backpack. "I guess I'd better leave before it gets any darker."

"See you later!" replied Pamela, already opening up a magazine and propping her legs up.

"Bye!"

Christine opened the glass doors and strolled out into the night, noticing with dismay that the clouds had blocked most of the moonlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much to all who reviewed! I'll do some author replies when we get into the story a little more. I do want to thank Maska for catching my little mistake though. Please tell me when I do things like that! Also, a big thanks to my new beta reader, Acantha Mardivey

I know I said names would stay the same, but I am changing a few here and there. For example, Philippe is just going to be Phillip for the sake of not sounding strange.

**Read and Review! **

The sleep hung heavy in Christine's eyes as she walked down the crudely carpeted hallway and toward the nook of a kitchen. As she wiped it away with one hand and continued forward, she immediately heard the familiar clatter of pots and pans being moved about within the cabinets. A quiet groan followed, and Christine winced at the noise of distress as she realized that Mrs. Valerius's arthritis must still be bothering her. Though the sixty-five year old woman attempted to hide her ailments from others, Christine could tell that she was often in a great deal of pain.

Looking around in the dim light that had made its way through the dusty windows, Christine saw just how decrepit the two-bedroom apartment had become over the past few months. Cracks lined the walls and ceilings, eager to let the cold fall rain and melting winter snow seep in and rot the aging wood. Broken cobwebs lined many of the corners, their tiny inhabitants already dead from lack of food and water. Upon every piece of antique mahogany furniture was a thick caking of dust, and the wooden floors desperately needed to be swept of the dirt that had blown in.

Christine felt a wave of guilt wash over her for not noticing the terrible state the small home was in. With school and work consuming her life lately, there was little time to help out. The small amount of time she even spent at the apartment was spent sleeping or doing piles of homework. Still, though, she needed to make some effort or the tiny abode would completely go to ruins. Mrs. Valerius's eyesight was so poor, she could probably not even see how bad things had become.

With a sigh, Christine finally walked into the kitchen and saw the hunched back of her guardian as she poured a carton of milk over a bowl of cereal. At the soft sound of Christine's footsteps on the stained linoleum, the older woman turned around with a smile. "Good morning, dear!" she exclaimed in a slightly raspy voice. "You're up a little early. Are you hungry?"

Christine slowly adjusted her eyes to the rays of morning light coming through the kitchen window and took a seat at the table. "Good morning," she replied as cheerfully as she could muster. "I'll just have a little cereal, I guess." Really she wasn't hungry in the least, but Mrs. Valerius was constantly chiding her for not eating enough. Truthfully, she had been looking rather gaunt lately, and her usually snug jeans had just barely stayed around her waist without a belt that morning.

"We have Cornflakes and...I think some Fruit Loops left from when my great-nephew visited last week. Are you sure you don't want an egg to go with it? It'll just take a second."

Christine blanched at the thought of the quivering yellow mass. "No...Cornflakes are fine. I can get it, if you want."

"Nonsense, dear," said the older woman with another smile. "You have enough to worry about with school and work. The least I can do is pour you some cereal."

"I'm just grateful that you let me stay here still," replied Christine. "I feel likes such a burden on you sometimes."

"Think nothing of it, Christine!" Mrs. Valerius exclaimed, setting the bowl of cereal in front of her and placing a frail arm about the young girl's shoulders. "After your father passed away six years ago, the least I could do was take you into my home. He was a dear friend of my husband's, and you were the sweetest little girl in the world. I was thrilled to have you come live here, and you've been wonderful company in my old age."

Christine's eyes welled up a bit, but she quickly brushed the salty liquid away. "I'm very grateful for everything you've done for me. But...I really will try to help with things here more. Once I get a job that actually pays, I'll try to help with some of the bills."

"Don't worry about such silly things, Christine. We're fine here, you and I. You just get through school! And cheer up, dear! Have some fun! You always look so sad!" Mrs. Valerius's eyes twinkled down at the young girl, and Christine weakly smiled back, feeling some relief go through her at her guardian's soothing words. If anyone had been there for her in these difficult years, Mrs. Valerius had.

"I'll try to cheer up," Christine said with a light laugh before taking a few bites of the flavorless flakes in front of her. After a few spoonfuls, she set down the utensil down with a dull clink, unable to eat any more without feeling like she was going to be sick. Looking up at the clock on the microwave, she saw that thirty long minutes remained before she needed to leave. Mrs. Valerius was continuing to rummage through the cupboards, likely trying to find something quick and inexpensive for that night's dinner.

"Oh, Christine!" she said suddenly, bringing her greying head out of the pantry and adjusting her glasses. "I forgot to tell you! I saved you a newspaper clipping I saw in yesterday's entertainment section. There's going to be a local theater production here, and they need singers to try out. I thought you might be interested."

Christine quickly cast her eyes downward. "You know I don't sing anymore," she said quietly, pushing the bowl away from her. "I can't carry a tune to save my life."

"Now that's ridiculous, child!" Mrs. Valerius exclaimed, whirling around. "You were always singing with your father and that...that cute little blonde-headed boy...oh..."

"Raoul?" Christine softly volunteered, a distant expression crossing her face.

"Yes! Raoul. You were always singing with him while your father strummed away on the guitar. We even have an old recording of you three, and you had a lovely voice! Why did you give it up so suddenly?"

Christine kept her eyes set upon the table and slowly reached down for her backpack, eager to get out of the cramped kitchen. "I don't know," she stuttered out. "I just got tired of it, I guess." She stood up and threw her backpack upon her thin shoulders in a single motion. "Anyway, I better get going now. I'll be home after work around three to help with dinner." Making her way to the front door, she slipped on a pair of brown sandals, despite the cold weather, and unlocked the deadbolt.

"Try to have a nice day, Christine," her guardian replied in a defeated tone, looking upon her sympathetically.

"You too." Christine opened the squeaking door and darted down the concrete steps to the ground floor. The morning air was chilly, and she almost went back inside to fetch a coat but decided against it. The last thing she needed was another long trip down memory lane. Besides, the parking garage was just around the corner, and she would soon be in her heated, albeit somewhat old, Honda Accord.

The lime green car had been a combined seventeenth birthday present from Mrs. Valerius and several distant relatives, though in more ways it was like a gift of sympathy after her father had suddenly passed away. Though the paint was now scratched and there were small holes in the seat cushions, she still treasured the vehicle, especially in the cold months of winter when the icy air became almost painful. It had also been the place where she went to cry in solitude over her devastating loss.

As she walked through the deserted lot and toward her car, she noticed with dismay that the rear left tire was slowly beginning to deflate. She sighed as she unlocked the door and climbed in, mentally marking it down as another chore on a long list to get done.

* * *

Once she was finally out of the doldrums of high school, Christine had imagined the days of idle gossip to fade away. Surely at a school the size of the University of Vermont, there would be way too many people to spread rumors around and even fewer people to care what was being said. She soon found herself to be sadly mistaken. Awkwardly sitting around a table at a little café with Meg and her friends from theater, she found herself in the middle of another rumor mill. Not able to contribute, she had spent most of the hour picking at a dry turkey salad with a plastic fork. 

"Well, I'm just glad we're getting any money at all," said a redhead named Jamie. "Have you seen some of the costumes? They're completely falling apart."

"It's still not that much of a donation," replied Meg wearily, taking a bite out of a blueberry bagel. "Not as big as the grant the state gave last year."

"Well, they certainly had enough to pay Charlotte's tuition," chimed in Sarah, a freshman from California. "I'm paying full out-of-state fees. Did you know that she has gotten everything paid for since her first year? She's not even that good! Her parents just happened to be rich enough to give her lessons her entire life." Sarah blushed slightly at her rant but was happy to see the older girls nodding in disgusted agreement.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Meg. "She thinks that she's God's gift to the stage. Talk about conceited!"

Christine continued to sit there and stare at the table as they chattered on, counting down the minutes until she had to leave for work. Meg had more or less dragged her there that day, telling her that she needed to get out more and meet people. What Meg failed to realize, though, was that she would have no idea what they were talking about. It was only when she caught the last part of a sentence, from an attractive Hispanic girl named Nora, that she looked up in surprise.

"...Phillip Chagny is said to be thinking about it. Both his father and grandfather went here for their undergraduate years."

"Phillip Chagny?" questioned Meg. "Isn't there a Chagny that owns several huge investment firms down in New York City? They had him on the news all the time, making predictions about what stocks would go up and go down. We even studied an article about him in an economics class I had to take."

"Yeah! That's his son!" replied Nora. "The dad passed away this last year, and now Phillip is taking over the company and the fortune. One of my theater professors said that he was looking into starting some scholarships here and donating some money to the school. Of course...I know the real reason he wants to help out here." She smiled slyly.

"And why is that?" exclaimed Sarah, leaning in over her drink with the others.

"You know Sorelli Russo, that senior teaching assistant for the Stage Movement course? She's got that long blonde hair and looks almost like a runway model. She's about as thin as one, too." The others nodded. "Well, she's trying to get into NYU next year and needs some fast recommendations. Let's just say that she and Phillip are a bit more than friends, and he wants to give her a hand in moving a little closer." The others giggled, and Christine glanced around, biting her lip apprehensively. Finally she forced herself to ask the question.

"Phillip Chagny? Does he...have a younger brother?" She shifted nervously as the other girls faced her, surprised she had finally spoken aloud after all that time.

Nora thought for a moment and shrugged. "Probably. They had a pretty big family. Why?"

Christine gave a small smile and looked down at her hands. "I think I may have known him, Raoul Chagny, when I was a kid. My dad gave him guitar lessons, and we used to hang out when he came up to Vermont for the summer."

Meg's eyes widened. "You knew him that closely? Why'd you let him go? He could have payed your tuition." The other girls laughed good-naturedly, and Christine relaxed somewhat in their presence.

"Meg!" exclaimed Christine in mock scolding. "Anyway, when he was eleven he left for a boarding school for a while. I think he stayed in New York after that. My dad died soon after, and...I don't know. We just kind of lost contact." She shrugged and picked at her salad some more, pushing her memories farther into her mind.

"Was he cute?" asked Nora. "I've heard that his brother is! Not to mention filthy rich!"

Christine blushed and smiled, slightly pleased with the rare attention. "I haven't seen him for a while, but...I guess he was kind of attractive."

"Maybe you'll run into him again," said Meg, still grinning mischievously.

"Maybe," she replied. "But somehow I doubt that he'd even remember me."

* * *

It was purely guilt that had brought him there. A feeling of raw anxiety that grated at his sanity constantly, until it had finally pulled him across the Atlantic Ocean and to an entirely different continent. Now, it was guilt that had kept him sitting in that tiny café for three hours, awaiting a meeting with a man he had never met in his life. 

The Iranian looked impatiently at the time on his digital wrist watch for a moment before running a hand through his cropped black hair in frustration. It was already eleven-thirty, and still no one of interest had shown up. The little message icon on his cellular phone remained vacant of calls, though he continued to check it at least every five minutes. He wearily wondered if he had been led on another stray path.

Looking down, he checked the name he had hastily written down on a slip of white notebook paper. A Mr. Joseph Buquet. Supposedly, the sixty year old man had been retired from the FBI for three years and had a good deal of information on the person of interest. In their one conversation over the phone several months back, Mr. Buquet had claimed to have a speciality on the more mysterious files that came through the bureau of that area of the country. On this day, they were supposed to meet privately for lunch, though at this moment the Iranian sat alone.

The Iranian smiled wryly to himself, doubting that this Mr. Buquet had much information of use, anyway. No one could ever confirm the masked man's existence beyond rumors and bits of information picked up here and there. The man would not be found unless he wanted to be. God forbid that ever happen, for all hell would surely break loose.

He looked up to see that the small café was already beginning to fill up for the lunch hour. A couple with five children were desperately trying to get them to settle down. The baby screamed and tossed his bottle to the floor, leading one of the older children to let out a high-pitched giggle. An elderly couple sat at the back, casting annoyed glances to the larger family from behind their thick-rimmed glasses. Finally, a group of what appeared to be college girls sat giggling and whispering around a table by the window.

His eyes focused on the quiet blonde for a moment in recognition from the night before. She had been the desk clerk at a hotel where he had almost made the mistake of giving out all of his information. What a foolish mistake that had been! The last thing he needed behind him was a long paper trail.

As he finished the last few drops of his fourth cup of coffee, the Iranian sighed and looked around one last time. Even if he wasn't getting anywhere, at least he was enjoying his stay. Perhaps this country didn't have the ancient beauty of his homeland with the blood red sun and mountains of sand, but it did have a carefree feeling about it. Everyone seemed at ease...able to do what they wanted without worry or fear.

No. His only concern now was finding the masked man. He had tried to absolve himself of responsibility but failed. If anything happened, he would feel guilty. He would feel guilty for what happened almost twenty long years ago.

_Damn it _the Iranian thought to himself, as he took a final drink of coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin. _You had better keep your promise to me, my friend._

The cell phone rang.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone for the reviews! They're especially helpful when the story is just getting started. And to those who already have this on their favorites, thank you so much! I hope it meets your expectations.

I know everyone is eager for Erik, but I need to set things up a bit first. I promise you will see him very soon, though, and I hope the first E/C meeting is worth the wait.

**Read and Review!**

"If I had a dollar for every time a guest left something in one of the rooms, I could retire a very wealthy man."

Christine glanced up and smiled as her boss of two years, Daniel Ford, came around the side of the front desk, disdainfully holding a pair of dirty blue socks and a green pacifier. He sighed and set them into a cart where forgotten items were kept until contact was established with the owners. At the moment, the bin contained a few articles of clothing, a radio, and several more interesting items that were often the cause of many jokes among the desk clerks.

"So...Christine," said Daniel, shuffling some papers in the back room. "How has business been these past few weeks?"

"I guess about right for this time of year," she replied, looking up from her textbook again. "Not a lot of guests, but it's never empty either."

He nodded. "Yes. Business will pick up as soon as Thanksgiving gets here. Which reminds me, will you be available to work that week? A lot of the others are heading out of town."

Christine hesitated. She had been greatly looking forward to having some free time during her vacation from school, both to help repair the apartment before winter set in and to simply have some hours to herself. Yet, she always needed the extra money, and she didn't have any real reason not to work. It wasn't like she ever left town. "Yeah, I'll be able to come in," she replied. "I'd like some time off around Christmas, though. My...friend hasn't been feeling well, and I'd like to..."

"Say no more, Christine!" replied Daniel, adjusting his glasses. "You come in during Thanksgiving, and I'll make sure you have the first pick of days around Christmas."

"Thanks!" she said with a small smile, very grateful she didn't have one of those stereotypical bullheaded bosses. Though a bit of a nervous middle-aged man, Daniel was flexible and friendly, always willing to help his employees if they needed a hand.

"Not a problem," he replied, making his way out from behind the front desk again. "Just tell me what days you want off a little bit early. That time of the year is always hectic, especially with all the travelers that get stranded out here." He turned to go back into the hallway that led to the guestrooms. "Excuse me. I need to go check one of the broken heaters. Tell me if the maintenance guy calls."

"Okay. Thanks again." She wearily turned back to her book as he rushed off, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus on the tiny words on the page. The text was called _The Psychology of Education_, basically a study of the different methods used to teach others. All education majors were required to take the course, and so far she had found it tiresome and uninteresting. Each day music education seemed like another step in the wrong direction.

Her blue eyes wandered around the lounge and back to the skeleton that was still hanging limply upon the wall. It stared down at her with its hollowed eyes and its mouth in a toothy grin, as if it were mocking her frustration. "What are you looking at?" she asked it jokingly, setting her pen down and leaning back in defeat. There was no way she was going to get fifty pages about dealing with troubled children read by tomorrow morning.

"Huh?" asked Daniel, coming back around the corner with one hand full of electric cords.

Christine blushed and laughed with embarrassment. "No. I...I was just talking to your friend on the wall over here."

"Oh!" said Daniel with a chuckle. "I got that down at Wal-mart for five bucks last year! Thought it gave the place a nice festive feel. You don't think it scares the guests away, do you?"

She was about to reply when the telephone rang. Daniel rushed over and grabbed the receiver, expecting the repair man. "Apollo Hotel," he mechanically answered.

"Huh? Oh. Yes. I'll get her." He handed her the phone with a slightly irritated look. "For you," he mouthed.

She looked at him puzzled before taking it. Only Meg and Mrs. Valerius knew to call her there, and they also knew only to do so when it was absolutely necessary. Her heart thumped quickly as she shakily spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi. Christine?" It was a woman's voice and was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a face to it.

"This is she. Can I help you?"

"Yes, dear. This is your neighbor from downstairs, Mrs. Romero. I'm sorry to trouble you, but I have a bit of bad news. Mrs. Valerius tripped coming down the stairs today and broke her leg rather severely. She's in the hospital right now, but I told her I would give you a call."

Christine sighed and rubbed a temple in worry. The news could have been worse, but it was still troubling. Often she had witnessed her elderly guardian descend down the steep concrete steps with great difficulty. Perhaps the fall had been inevitable. "How bad is it?" she finally asked, attempting to keep calm.

"I really don't know, Christine. I can give you the room number, though, and you can see her for yourself. She also asked if you would go home first and get her purse for her. You know, a woman in her condition really shouldn't be on the second floor. I..."

"What's the room number?" interrupted Christine, not in the mood for a lecture. Mrs. Romero had a tendency to go on about things that were none of her concern.

"Three seventy-six," she replied, slightly irked.

"Thanks," said Christine, jotting the number down on a notepad. " I'll get up there as soon as I can."

"All right then," Mrs. Romero answered, quickly over her irritation. "Let me know how she is."

"I will."

"Goodbye, dear."

"Bye." Christine hung up the phone and let out a deep breath. Her boss continued to look at her expectantly. "My guardian broke her leg on the stairs. She's in the hospital."

Daniel nodded sympathetically. "It's a slow afternoon. I'll take over the last two hours of your shift."

"Thank you so much," she replied, quickly gathering up her items and stuffing them carelessly into her backpack. Pulling on a thick woolen coat over her sweater, she headed for the door.

* * *

The Iranian's mouth was fixed into a scowl as he sat in a cramped booth at Betty's Family Diner, once again finding himself in unexpected solitude. Mr. Buquet was supposed to have been there at three forty-five that afternoon, and the man was either fifteen minutes late or not coming. His excuse for not showing up the last time had been a sudden back injury, incurred while he was mowing the lawn. Now the Iranian wondered with exasperation what his newest reason would be.

If Mr. Buquet didn't show up this time, though, that would be it. He would completely abandon contact with the former FBI agent and move on to another area of interest. Supposedly there had been a couple of strange occurrences up near Detroit, though the details were very vague. Often the Iranian wondered if he should just give up looking all together. He had already searched across half of Europe to no avail, and his venture through the United States was proving no more successful.

Finishing the last few bites of a bran muffin, the Iranian looked up to see that only a suited business man reading a newspaper and an elderly woman sat inside. Several of the cashiers were chatting over a plate of fries, waiting for the dinner crowd to show up. With a sigh he checked his cell phone again, making sure that there were no missed calls. Just as he looked back up, the front door jingled and an older man with a greying beard entered.

He was casually dressed in blue jeans and a Patriots sweatshirt and had a relaxed look upon his wrinkled face as he looked around the diner. The Iranian stood up slightly in the booth to make his presence known, and the man immediately waved and strode over.

"Mr. Nadir Khan?" he questioned, reaching out a rough hand.

"Yes," said the Iranian with relief. "Mr. Joseph Buquet, I presume."

"That would be me!" he replied in a friendly tone, taking a seat across from him. A young waitress began to walk toward him to take his order, but he held up a hand. "Nothing over here, ma'am." She nodded and turned back around. Mr. Buquet turned back to Nadir. "Sorry I was late. Had to take my granddaughter to her karate lessons." He laughed. "You should see her punches! I think she'll be ripe for the Bureau one of these days."

"That is fine," replied Nadir somewhat distractedly, quickly pulling out a notepad and pen. He had no time for chitchat that morning and was too peeved about the last meeting to care if he came off as rude. "I would just like to hear anything you know," he said in a tone of formality. "Any information you have would be wonderful."

Mr. Buquet ran a hand through his beard and nodded. "Right down to business, I see." He thought for a moment before speaking. "Well...we first heard of some strange things back in the mid-nineties. Just rumors, of course. Supposedly some guy had snuck over from Europe and had some connections with...well, fairly hostile people back in your country. He had done some secretive work for them, you might say, though exactly what projects he was involved in remains unclear."

"Go on," said the Iranian, the paper still blank in front of him.

"We investigated it a little bit but found nothing of interest. There were sightings of a guy in a mask that matched the ones given to us by the French authorities, though no confirmation was ever made. A couple of strange bank accounts opened up along the east coast, but they were closed up before we could take a closer look. Then it was rumored that..."

"Is this all you have?" interrupted Mr. Khan with exasperation. "Sightings and rumors? You have nothing else? Nothing substantial?"

Mr. Buquet frowned. "Sir, you have to understand that we get a ton of strange cases coming through every day. There's supposedly a guy from Russia that's been spying here since the seventies. Another guy _supposedly_ has a suitcase with a nuclear bomb in it. Hell! We had a whole drawer devoted to people who thought they saw Hitler walking down the street. Most of these phantom people don't exist, and we don't have time to fully investigate everything."

Nadir Khan clenched his jaw. "I can fully assure you that this man does exist in the flesh and blood. He is more than a rumor, sir."

"Maybe he does," said the bearded man with a shrug. "You seem to know more about him than anyone else does. Why not take this to the police or the FBI if you're so concerned?"

The Iranian sighed and began to put his pen and notepad away. "I don't wish to discuss my motives, sir. Do you have anything else of interest for me? If not, this meeting might as well be over."

Mr. Buquet was silent for a moment. "If I had access to a computer at headquarters, I could probably find you more. It seems, if I remember right, there was an archived interview with an Iranian figurehead that had some pretty strange stuff in it. Normally, it would be hell to get into the files, but I have a certain amount of seniority still. No promises, though."

Nadir nodded somewhat unconvincingly and took his napkin out of his lap. "I would greatly appreciate that, sir. I would also be willing to compensate you, _if_ you find anything of use." He stood up. "Anyhow, I must be off for the day. You know how to reach me if you uncover anything of interest."

The older man quickly stood up as well, slightly surprised by the Iranian's abruptness. He held out a hand, and Mr. Khan wearily shook it. "I'll take a look for you, sir. Usually I wouldn't bother, but you seem like you know something." He chuckled. "And I certainly wouldn't want to be responsible for some catastrophe that could have been prevented by helping you out."

Nadir Khan forced a smile and nodded. "Have a good day, sir." With another sigh, he opened the jingling door and made his way out into the autumn air. It seemed that this search was truly going to be fruitless.

Nothing would be able to pull his old masked friend out of hiding.

At least, nothing that he could think of.


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter as it kind of begins the action. Like I said earlier, this will begin on primarily original ideas and then move to more closely follow certain events in the book. Before you decide whether to continue with this story, I hope you read the chapter following this one. Though this is mainly a suspense story, I do plan to include a fair amount of darker romance. And, for the few Raoul fans who are reading, I promise a share of tender R/C moments as well. I aim to please everyone!**

**Finally, I did include a line from the song _Amazing Grace, _which, like just about everything else, I do not own.**

Christine inwardly cringed as she made her way down the vacant corridor of the hospital, her heels clicking gently against the cold, sterilized linoleum. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the grinding of a machine, followed by a high-pitched tone. Two nurses walked by, talking quietly as they looked over their charts, and a grave voice over the intercom echoed down the hall as it paged a Dr. Richardson.

She hated hospitals... the nauseating smells of foreign chemicals, the pale shades of grey that marred every wall, and the general aura of disease and death that seemed to emanate out of every room.

For two long weeks, she had sat in a frigid, leather armchair inside one of those rooms as her father slowly succumbed to pneumonia. Vividly, she was able to recall his hacking cough as he had attempted to speak to her in those last days, telling her that he loved her and would somehow pull through this. He had looked so frail as he clutched her hand, desperately claiming as many more breaths as he was able to. Most of all, Christine remembered the nurse's words as she had changed the IV bag on the day right before he died. "Much of this could have been prevented," she had said, "if he had just come in a little sooner."

Her father _had_ delayed coming to the hospital for a long time, thinking that the "cold" would quickly pass and not wanting to pay an unaffordable doctor's bill. The illness had not passed, though, but rather developed into the deadly virus, slowly filling his lungs with a thick fluid until breath was no longer possible. As she had sat by his bedside sobbing into his frail shoulder, he had told her that he would always be with her, would always be watching from above. He had said he would be listening to her whenever she sang in her god given voice, and that one day she would shine for all the world to see. Then he was gone.

Now she found herself walking down the hall of the very same hospital, the familiar sights and sounds causing her to remember things that she had forced far back into her mind. To some relief, Christine saw that this ward was not quite as morose as the one that her father had been in. For the most part, there were just people with casts and bandages, wearily moving down the halls in wheelchairs or on crutches. Doors to most of the rooms remained open, and there were no feelings of urgency or despair.

After searching for a short time, Christine finally found the room number she was looking for and slowly opened the door. Her eyes immediately settled on Mrs. Valerius, who was calmly laying in a white hospital bed with her leg propped up and in a thick cast. Next to her stood a doctor, holding a manila folder full of papers and medical charts. He glanced up and nodded as Christine walked in.

"Hello, dear!" Mrs. Valerius exclaimed with a smile. "I'm glad you were able to get here so fast!"

Christine sat Mrs. Valerius's purse down upon a counter and quickly ran over to give her guardian a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're okay! I wish I had been there to help you."

The doctor took several steps backward to give them room, looking slightly annoyed as he stuffed the papers back into the folder. "I will allow you some privacy now," he said to Mrs. Valerius as he walked to the door. "We'll have the test results in tomorrow, and I'll discuss them with you at that time."

As soon as he left, Christine turned to the older woman with a puzzled look on her face. "Test results?"

A look of concern passed over Mrs. Valerius's green eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a cheerful expression and patted Christine's hand reassuringly. "Oh! They just wanted to do a quick bone scan, what with the terrible pain I've been having lately. I'm sure it's nothing more than my arthritis, dear."

"Oh," said Christine softly, somewhat unconvinced. She could see it both within the doctor's eyes and in her guardian's eyes that something was not quite right, but she did not press any further. A part of her did not even want to know.

"Well," said Mrs. Valerius, maintaining an upbeat tone. "I suppose I am getting on in years. There's bound to be an accident sooner or later when you're my age."

Christine glanced up and smiled weakly. "Yes, I guess so. I'm still sorry that I wasn't there to help you down the stairs, though. Anyway, I'll help out a lot more while you're off your feet. I think my boss will let me work fewer hours for a while, and classes won't be as busy after midterms. I should be..."

"Christine," Mrs. Valerius interrupted, firmly but kindly. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"I know, but I..."

"Please let me finish. Before I...get too old, I would like to see you happy again. It's events like these that make me see how short life really is, and you shouldn't spend it miserably. Ever since your father passed, you've seemed almost like a ghost, always staring into space with a vacant look in your eyes and hardly saying a word to anyone."

"I'm not miserable," she protested. "I'm fine. I just..." she tapered off, not wanting to get into an argument with her ailing friend.

"I know that you're fine, Christine, but I wish you could be happy. Find some friends! Go out on a date sometime! And..." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "Your face always lit up so much when you sang, Christine. You looked like a little blonde angel. Have you ever thought that maybe you could find joy in that again?"

Christine looked to the floor for a long moment, her hand clenching the iron bedpost. "I...I am happy," she softly replied. "I mean...I do have a couple of friends in school. Guys aren't...all that interested in me, but I'm busy most of the time, anyway."

Mrs. Valerius sighed and leaned backward on the pillow. "You are a hard worker. There is no doubt in my mind of that. But...just once, I'd like to see a real smile on your face." She paused for a long moment as if debating something. "Christine," she finally said. "Bring me my purse."

Christine obeyed and waited apprehensively as Mrs. Valerius zipped it open and pulled out a small object from the side. She saw that it was an old, unlabeled cassette of some kind. "Do you know what this is?" the older woman asked, handing it to her. Christine shook her head and curiously turned the tape over in her hand. "It's the last tape I have of you and your father singing together. I think you had just turned fifteen."

"Oh," she stuttered out, nearly dropping the cold plastic box onto the ground. She had purposefully blocked its existence from her mind.

"I found it when I was helping to go through some of your father's things, and I've kept it with me all these years, wanting to give it to you." Christine just continued to numbly stare at it.

"Thanks," she finally said, mechanically placing it into her purse. From over the intercom came a woman's voice politely announcing that visiting hours were almost over.

"Listen to it sometime, Christine," Mrs. Valerius said, closing her eyes and beginning to drift off to sleep. Her face appeared weary, and Christine could not help but think that it was the oldest she had ever seen her guardian look. "Maybe it'll help you a bit."

"I will," she murmured with a lump in her throat as she headed toward the door. "Have a good night. I'll be up again tomorrow afternoon."

There was no response as the older woman had already gone to sleep, and Christine blindly turned and made her way back down the corridor. She didn't even notice her surroundings as she took the elevator back to the ground floor and walked out to her car in the cold evening air. In the light from the parking lot lamps, she could see her billowy breath, and she felt a shiver run through her body as she climbed into her Accord.

As she turned the silver ignition key and the engine and heaters hummed to life, she sat there for a long moment in silence and pondered the previous conversation. Why was everyone trying to change her? Why did they insist that she smile and open up more? Didn't they understand that she was fine with the way things were? She was content to go about life busy and preoccupied with the tasks in front of her. She didn't want to have to think about the past or about other people or about relationships. She just wanted to forget.

With a distraught sigh, she pulled the tape from her purse and forcefully pushed it into the cassette player of her twelve-year-old car. If she didn't listen to it now, Christine knew that it would haunt her. She would do nothing but think about the tape and wonder what ghosts from her past happened to be on it. As the player slowly clicked on, Christine shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space, carefully making her way through the endless rows of cars and back out onto to the highway.

_Are you ready, Christine? _came her father's jovial voice from the cassette. Her breath caught in her throat as she drove down the nearly empty interstate. For a moment, Christine considered shutting it off and at least waiting until it was daylight to listen to it. Something made her keep her hands firmly on the steering wheel, though, and she could not bring herself to push the stop button.

_I'm ready! _replied her young, cheerful voice. A few chords were strummed on a guitar, and several sheets of paper crackled as they both turned to the first page of the song.

_Here we go! _said her father Immediately, the first chords of _Amazing Grace _began, and her soft soprano voice rang out from the speakers. After a few lines, her father joined in with his pleasant baritone as he continued to lightly strum the guitar. Suddenly, Christine remembered making the tape. It had been her father's fortieth birthday, and he had wanted to hear his daughter sing one of his favorite hymns.

As she turned off the highway and onto a side road in order to avoid the heavy evening traffic, she felt several unwanted tears stream down her cheeks. It had been so long since she heard his voice, and she was both devastated and entranced at the same time. Choking back a sob, she continued to listen as they sang on, feeling a tightness overtake her chest at the onrushing memories.

_T'was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved..._

God, how it hurt to hear this. Quickly brushing the tears from her eyes, she felt the car start to veer left and attempted to put her concentration back on the road. It was getting darker by the minute, and she felt a cloud of overwhelming exhaustion suddenly overtake her. As the street lamps began to blur together in her tired and teary vision, Christine began to wearily fumble around in an attempt to turn the cassette off, knowing that listening to it was becoming a driving hazard.

Looking back up, she realized that she had entered into an unfamiliar rural residential area and wondered if she had taken a wrong turn. Scattered houses and farms lay around the narrow road, their lights dim and distant in the evening sky. Just as she was about to reach down in another attempt to turn the song off and focus on her surroundings, Christine made out something small moving in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards away from her.

Squinting, she at first wondered if it was an animal but immediately realized that it was too tall. As she drove nearer and her headlights fell upon the figure, she saw that it was a man in exercise attire, running forward at a leisurely pace in the direction that she was going. Ignoring the cassette for a moment, Christine started to swerve left and quickly pass the evening jogger. It was at that very moment, though, that she noticed a dark object coming toward her in her rearview mirror. She let out a soft gasp as she saw that it was a car with its headlights off approaching her at an alarming rate. It had not even been there a moment ago!

To her shock, the dark automobile began to quickly pass her on the left side, and she soon found herself tightly sandwiched between the jogger and the ghostly car. As the man turned to look behind him at the two approaching vehicles, Christine saw a look of surprise and fright pass over his bearded face. Her only choice was to speed up and get out from between them, but she was afraid that she would somehow swerve and hit the elderly jogger. At the same time, the dark car was so close by now that it was nearly about to sideswipe her.

Suddenly, the jogger stopped running and attempted to dodge out of the way, leaving her room on one side. As the black car came even closer, Christine frantically slammed on the gas pedal and swerved right to avoid being hit. The green Accord drove off of the road and pummeled downhill into a wooded area, and she was violently jerked around by the bumps and rifts on the unpaved ground. Desperately she attempted to keep control of the steering wheel and get her seemingly paralyzed foot off of the accelerator before she rammed into a tree.

As the car hurdled forward, it suddenly hit what felt like an enormous hole. Christine was rapidly thrown to the side, and she winced in pain as her head slammed into the window. A throbbing ache quickly engulfed her skull, and a series of bright lights seem to flash in front of her eyes. From somewhere on the brink of consciousness, she noticed that the car had finally stopped moving forward, likely stuck in the pit that it had landed in. The engine continued to run, though, leaving both the headlights and cassette player on.

Laying her head back onto the seat, Christine felt herself drift in and out of the darkness, unable to move without feeling dizzy. In the background, she heard the cassette continue to play. She could hear herself and her father singing but wasn't coherent enough to make out what song it was.

"I have to get up," Christine mumbled to herself, trying to focus her blurry eyes. A heavy feeling came over her, though, and all she wanted to do was sleep...sleep to the sound of her father's voice as it continued to sing what she now recognized to be an old folk song.

Opening her blue eyes once more, Christine suddenly wondered if she was hallucinating, for it looked as though someone was standing right next to her left door. She blinked once but the silhouette remained, and she groaned as she attempted to pull her head up and get a closer look.

As she lay back down again in a haze, she vaguely wondered if she had landed next to a tree, but all ponderings suddenly stopped as she became aware of her unlocked door being opened. A cold gust of air rushed into the automobile and over her body. Turning her neck slightly, she could at first see nothing. Within another second, though, she became aware of something reaching out toward her, a hand...a long, thin hand was reaching forward.

She gasped as the icy fingers touched her forehead, and she struggled within the confines of the seatbelt to move away. As she started to open her mouth to let out a sharp shriek, the cold hand moved to the area directly above her lips and nose, nearly blocking her airway. Christine could feel her own warm breath reflect back onto her face as the hand continued to hover inches in front of her.

Then, as some clarity returned to her foggy mind, a feeling of terror rapidly surged through her exhausted body.

_Good God! It was going to suffocate her!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the much anticipated first meeting. It's meant to be mysterious and to not reveal too much about our favorite character. I promise much more E/C time in the future, though this story isn't going to have a lot of fluff. Maybe some dark fluff. Erik's modern characterization was a bit tough to work out, but I was trying to make him a little more toward the Kay/Leroux side. **

**Finally, thanks to everyone for all of the wonderful reviews! I wasn't anticipating that many, and they really got me excited about this story. I hope it turns out to be a fun ride!**

**Read and Review!**

Christine remained completely frozen in her seat, too much in shock to do anything but stare cross-eyed at the hand that remained above her quivering mouth. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, and she feared she would faint as her surroundings began to fade into darkness. Desperately, she attempted to stay conscious so that she would not be at the mercy of whomever - or whatever-was standing silently beside her.

The cassette continued to play on in the background, and she was vaguely aware of her father's jovial voice talking to her. _Shall we go for one more, Christine? _

_Yeah. I have time for a last song _her fifteen-year-old voice replied with slight annoyance at having been kept there so long. Within a couple of seconds, _Red River Valley_ immediately began to play on the guitar. The music seemed to become more distant with each passing second, as if she were slowly floating away from it.

It was at that moment, though, that she heard the strange voice from directly above her. Though barely above a whisper, it was sharp and distinct, easily breaking through the music on the cassette. For a moment, Christine thought that she had imagined it in a short lapse of consciousness. Then it repeated itself, louder this time...almost ethereal in its ability to glide through the air and suppress every other noise in its vicinity. "Is_ that_ your voice?" it asked, devoid of tone or emotion.

"Mmhmm," was her mumbled acknowledgment as she attempted to keep her eyes opened. To her relief, Christine noticed that the hand then withdrew itself from her mouth. It hovered openly above her face for a second before finally closing into a fist and disappearing altogether. Craning her neck to try and make out its owner, Christine could still see nothing but a dark silhouette standing just beyond the glow of her headlights.

Rubbing a hand over her exhausted face, she started to lie back down and close her eyes again, wondering if a short rest would take the ache in her skull away. The voice spoke again, though, and her eyelids flew open. "Stay awake," it commanded in a raspy whisper. "You have only a minor concussion."

"I can't," she replied weakly, too disoriented to tell if she was imagining everything or not.

"You will if you want to survive the night. It would be a pity for such a voice to come to a needless end."

Christine groaned slightly and attempted to raise her head again, fully awake in her desire to see the face of the person who spoke to her. Before she was even half way up, though, the icy hand swiftly returned and pressed itself to her forehead, forcing her to lie back down into the seat. She murmured a quiet protest as her head hit the headrest but was in no condition to resist.

"Remain lying down,_ Christine_," it stated, emphasizing her name in a clear threat. "Seeing me will certainly do you no good."

"Why?" she asked, beginning to question her safety. "Who are you?"

She could have sworn she heard a very soft chuckle from above. "Merely a passerby," came the reply. "No one of any concern to you."

Between the song on the cassette, the hypnotizing voice, and her throbbing head, Christine attempted to find some sense of clarity before she blacked out again. "Please...I need to get out," she protested. "I need help. My car is stuck down here, and I need to call someone." As if on cue, the last chords of the song faded out and the cassette clicked off. Aside from the steady hum of the engine, Christine found herself in complete silence. "Sir?" she asked, thinking with simultaneous panic and relief that her strange companion had abandoned her.

With a sigh of exhaustion, she started to reach down and unbuckle the seat belt. Christine threw herself back into the seat, though, as the hand returned, watching it in fear as it brushed a wisp of blonde hair away from her face. She could almost sense a strange tension in the air, as if the figure was debating what action to take next, was struggling to make some decision concerning her fate.

Christine started to protest the confinement, but a blaring noise shattered the silence around her. She blinked in surprise but soon realized the noise to be the siren of an ambulance or fire truck out in the distance. Several more alarms soon followed, becoming louder by the second. A feeling of relief swept through her. She would be discovered! Unless...the figure beside her had other plans. Her eyes darted upward toward the dark form in apprehension.

"You are fortunate tonight," finally came a decisive whisper. "Your voice has saved you."

It was gone after that, and she blinked several times as the lights of the emergency vehicles flashed in yellows and reds around her. The voices of paramedics could be heard in the distance, and she saw the shine of flashlights nearing her car. "Over here!" someone called out. "Someone is still inside of the vehicle."

A balding man in a white paramedic's uniform soon appeared by her ajar door and looked in with his flashlight. She blinked painfully in the bright glow. "Hello there, Miss," he said, not hiding the relief in his voice as he saw that they would not be needing a body bag that night. "How are you feeling? We'll get you out of here in just a minute!" He leaned back up and called out. "We have a young woman down here. She appears to be fully conscious but go ahead and bring down the stretcher." He turned back to her. "Are you experiencing any pain or numbness?" he questioned.

"My head hurts a lot. I rammed it against the window when my car hit a bump."

"Are you feeling dizzy? Any vision problems?"

"Yeah, I'm a little dizzy," she replied wearily. Christine paused and looked around, feeling another wave of exhaustion come over her. "Where did he go?" she asked quietly.

"Where did who go?" the paramedic asked, reaching in and shutting off the engine. "Was someone riding with you?"

"No. The person that was standing here a second ago."

As the paramedic started to get up to assist with the stretcher, he gave her a sympathetic smile. "We'll get you out of here in a second. Can you give me your name?"

"Christine Daae" she replied distractedly, still looking around. "Where did he go, though?"

"There's no one here, Christine," he replied kindly. "You may have imagined it while you were shortly unconscious. Tell me if you see any other strange things, though, okay? Try to stay awake. I'm just going to ask you a few questions about your medical history."

"Okay," she said softly, brushing the incident to the back of her mind as she entered the safe confines of the brightly lit ambulance. Perhaps she had imagined it, and yet...it had seemed so very, very real.

* * *

Nadir Khan paced several times across the patchy brown carpet of the cheap motel room, his eyes nervously darting toward the dirty window as if expecting someone. The clanking heater in the corner was at least ten years old and provided little warmth, or perhaps there were just too many cracks and crevices letting in the frigid air for it to make a difference. Nadir shivered as he strode back across the room, jumping when someone suddenly revved up a motorcycle outside. 

He had that feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that he had not had for at least a decade. The Iranian knew that he was being watched, and that his presence there was no longer a secret. Nadir had hoped that by using a fake name to rent a room in a thirty-dollar-a-night motel, he would be able to keep hidden and unnoticed. As he walked down the streets of the small town, though, he could see the shadows that discreetly trailed beside him. He was probably one of the few men _alive_ who would even notice such things. To deny that they were there, though, would be foolish. The Iranian was not a man known for having an overactive imagination.

With a sigh, Nadir realized that going back and forth across the room was doing him no good. If his masked friend wanted to find him, he would. If he had wanted to do away with him, he would have done so already. All the Iranian could do now was wait. The mattress gave a loud groan as he sat down upon the stained and torn bedspread. Reaching for the remote control, Nadir turned on the television in an attempt to calm his nerves. After seeing with great disdain that the rooms didn't even have cable, he settled on a local station and leaned back to watch the rest of the news.

"A spokesperson for the White House says that the president is willing to attend the three-way talks, but the United States will not back down from its stance on North Korean nuclear activity." The female reporter paused and brushed a strand of brown hair out of her face as she turned back to the camera. "Victor?"

"Thank you for that report from Washington, Amy," replied the anchorman as the T.V. flashed back to the studio. "Be sure to keep us updated on how events there progress." He quickly looked down at his papers and glanced back up. "And now for our top local story. Police are searching for a missing Burlington man tonight, described as Caucasian and standing at about six feet tall and two hundred and twenty pounds." A head shot of the elderly man popped up onto the screen. "Sixty-year-old Joseph Buquet was last seen by his wife around six-thirty Monday evening, right before he went out on an evening jog. When he didn't come home that night, a search immediately began. So far, no evidence has been found to explain his disappearance."

The camera switched to a video recording of an older woman standing in front of a brick farmhouse. Her mouth was pursed tightly in distress, and dark circles framed her hazel eyes. "Joe always comes home by eight," she said, her voice cracking. "He's never late coming home, and he would have called me if he had trouble."

"Was he suffering from any sort of illness?" enquired a faceless reporter.

"No," replied Mrs. Buquet. "Joe was very healthy. He exercised every night and was rarely ever sick."

"Do you have any idea at all where he may possibly be? A friend's house, maybe?"

"No," she repeated, shaking her head as a tear ran down her cheek. "Something has happened to him. He wouldn't just leave without a word."

The television turned back to the anchorman. "There has been some speculation that Mr. Buquet's strong ties to the FBI have made him a target for criminals, but the police have assured us that there is no proof to suggest this as of yet. Anyone with information is encouraged to call the number at the bottom of the screen. We'll keep you updated on any further developments concerning Mr. Buquet." A breaking pause. "Next, on channel nine news, a report on how to keep your children safe at..."

Nadir Khan flipped off the television screen and sat in a quiet daze. A feeling of guilt suddenly overwhelmed him. He had dragged that poor man into this business without even considering the consequences. Perhaps Mr. Buquet unknowingly had more valuable information than the Iranian had assumed. For a moment, Nadir wondered if there was any way to get into the former agent's files and see just what they contained. If he were caught meddling, though, he would immediately be placed on the list of suspects.

Maybe he deserved to be, though. In more ways than one, he was responsible for this.

At least now Nadir knew for certain that he was close to his old friend. At the same time, finding him would continue to be nearly impossible...even in a town of that size.

With a sigh, the Iranian reached for his phone and deleted Mr. Buquet's name from his short list of contacts. There was no doubt that the former FBI agent was long dead.

* * *

"So...you think you had some sort of supernatural experience?" 

Christine raised her head from the pillow and gave Meg an annoyed look. "Don't stare at me like I'm insane. It's not as if I was completely conscious at the time. I'm just saying that the whole thing was really strange, like being in a dream."

"No! I don't think you're insane. It's just interesting, I guess."

"My father's voice was singing in the background the entire time, and then that...that voice started speaking to me from above. I can't really remember everything now, but I do remember that someone was talking to me. I wasn't alone out there that night!" Christine clutched the pillow tightly to herself, momentarily staring at the floral bedspread with a distant look in her eye.

Meg shrugged. "Maybe you weren't alone. It's just that when I first talked to you during the night you stayed at the hospital, you made the whole thing sound kind of creepy. A cold hand? Someone forcing you to stay inside of the car? That's a little weird."

"I was hysterical that night, Meg! After everything that had happened, I barely knew what I was talking about. It kept me awake when I had the concussion, though! And did I tell you what the voice said to me right before it left?"

"What?" Meg asked, attempting to hide her skepticism.

"It said that my voice had saved me! It was like some kind of sign...that and the cassette. Ever since that night, I've felt so peaceful. Even with Mrs. Valerius still in the hospital, I feel like everything is going to be okay."

"How long will she be there?" asked Meg, somewhat happy to change the subject. "Have they gotten any results back?"

Christine's face fell. "No one will tell me anything. I think something may be wrong, though. Somehow I doubt she's coming out of there any time soon."

"I'm sorry, Christine," Meg replied, giving her friend a one-armed hug. "Maybe everything will be fine, though. And you're welcome to stay at my house as long as you want. There's plenty of room for you here, and my parents have always considered you a good influence on me! Maybe they'll stop trying to force me to move out." She laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks," Christine said, gratefully. "I'll try to get out, though, once my head stops aching. I swear that I went through a bottle of Tylenol the other day. The dizziness is about gone, thank God, though the room still spun a little when I got up this morning. Anyway, I can't stay too long, or the apartment will completely fall apart."

"Whatever you feel like! I'm guessing you probably can't drive, though."

"No. Even if I were well enough, two of my tires are completely deflated and something came loose in the engine. It's going to take a while to get it repaired."

Meg gave her a sympathetic look. "Well, I'll give you a ride when I can." She sighed. "You're really not having a good month, Christine. Talk about bad luck!"

"Tell me about it," she replied with a sigh, absentmindedly fingering the lace on one of the pillow shams. Christine was quiet for a moment. "Hey Meg?" she finally asked with hesitation.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think there really could have been something with me when I had the accident? Like a ghost or spirit of some kind? I mean, it disappeared so fast, and its voice just didn't seem human."

"I really don't know," Meg replied. "My grandma says that she's seen Angels. And I have a friend at Yale who swears that a ghost lives in her uncle's house. So...maybe there are things out there. There's no proof that there aren't."

"Yeah," she quietly agreed. Her eyes wandered around the spacious bedroom and down to one of Meg's textbooks laying precariously upon the bed. Inside it, as a bookmark, was a bright pink flyer for the local musical. Without completely yanking it out, Christine gave the corner a small tug to give the paper a closer glance.

"What are you looking at?" asked Meg. "Oh! That! I think I'm going to try out. It's supposed to be a pretty big deal, so I doubt I'll even make it. Maybe they'll let me do scenery or something."

"I'm sure you'll make it, Meg," she replied, looking it over. "Do you...happen to have an extra flyer?"

"Sure! I was helping to hand them out at the Student Union so I have stacks of them. Why? Are you planning on getting involved with it? It should be fun, even if you're not in the actual performance."

"Maybe," replied Christine, softly. "After that night, I just feel so different. I feel like I was given a sign of some kind. I feel like..." She tapered off for a moment.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm not alone anymore."


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone! Sorry for the long delay on this, but I was devoting my time to my other story. Hopefully I will be able to concentrate on this one now and will make every attempt to update once a week.

As I have said, this story will begin to resemble the book more and more, though I am taking a lot of original directions. This next chapter isn't too exciting, but it builds toward the bigger events. Reviews are always very much appreciated!

**Read and Review!**

Christine pulled the wool blanket up around her bare legs and looked around the silent apartment as though she had never seen it before. All was completely still, save for the occasional drip from the faucet in the kitchen or the sound of a car humming down the street. The lights flickered once as the heat came on, and her digital watch beeped twice when the time changed to eight p.m. Pushing her wavy hair away from her face, Christine started to open a text book to get her mind immersed in her studies and away from the emptiness. Finding she couldn't concentrate after several minutes, she pushed the book aside and stretched out on the sofa.

It was her second night back in the decrepit apartment after resting several days at Meg's house. Though she had not wanted to come back to the loneliness, she knew that the apartment would not hold up well by itself. Another dark leak was already staining the ceiling in her bedroom, and a new layer of dust had found its way onto the kitchen floor. With winter approaching, conditions could only get worse.

Feeling a dull pounding at the front of her skull, Christine wearily stood up to take another Tylenol. Though most of the pain had ceased and only a tiny blue bump remained on her forehead, she still occasionally felt the effects of the accident. As the memory of the terrifying night returned, she was reminded of her companion in the barren woods. An unanticipated shiver ran through her as she thought of the voice, and she again wondered whether it had been real. So much of that night was nothing but a foggy mess of images and sounds, though. She doubted she would ever know exactly what had happened, but she liked to think that someone or something was watching out for her.

Just as she swallowed the white capsule with a drink of water, the phone rang out from behind her. Christine jumped as the high-pitched tone intruded into the silence, before quickly whirling around to grab the receiver. "Hello?" she answered, painfully gulping down the entire mouthful of water.

"Hello?" Mrs. Valerius' kind voice questioned. "Christine?"

"Hi, Mrs. Valerius!" she exclaimed, feeling her heart calm some. "How are you?"

"I am...fine," she answered with slight strain. "How are you? How is your poor head?"

"I'm doing well," Christine replied, unnerved by her guardian's hesitant tone. "My head doesn't hurt too much now, and I finally started classes again yesterday. The doctor said it was just a minor concussion." She paused. "Is everything okay, there?"

A short silence followed, and Christine could feel her chest tighten in anxiety. "There...is a little bit of a problem, Christine," Mrs. Valerius replied, attempting to maintain her cheerful tone. "The results of the test came back yesterday, and the scan...revealed some problems with my bones."

"What? What do you mean? What kind of problems?"

"Honey...they think that I may have tumor growth in my bones. I though the pain was just the arthritis acting up, but the scans showed that it may be something else."

Christine could feel her eyes well up. She gripped onto the receiver so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, trying to remain calm. "How bad do they think it is?"

"They don't know yet, Christine. They're taking more tests and should be able to tell in a couple of days. But please don't worry too much about me, dear. They have plenty of stuff to treat this kind of thing nowadays. I'll just be stuck in this dreary place for a little while."

"I'll visit a lot," Christine replied, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Please call me as soon as you know what the test results are. I want to know how everything is." She paused again to collect herself. " Is there anything I can bring you?"

"No, dear. I'm absolutely fine here. You just try to keep the apartment up a bit...make sure that the heater is still working. Also, if you see the landlord, tell him that the two back burners on the stove are acting strangely. But, otherwise, just try to keep up with your schoolwork. Don't worry about me."

"You know that I will," replied Christine with a choked laugh. "I wish you could come home."

"Me too, dear. I'll come home as soon as I can. Is there anything else you want to tell me? One of the nurses is here so I may need to go in just a second."

"No...well, actually there is kind of something." She swallowed and took a breath. "I may try out for that musical, the one you were talking about. I doubt I'll make it, but...I just kind of thought that it may be fun. We'll see."

"That's wonderful, Christine!" exclaimed Mrs. Valerius. "I knew that cassette would help you clear your head a bit. Tell me how everything goes! Your father would be proud to hear this news!"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Okay, dear. You've certainly made my day better. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight... and take care."

"Goodnight, dear."

Christine hung up the phone with a dull click and sat down at the kitchen table. Placing her forehead into her hands, she allowed the withheld tears to stream down her face for a moment. With desperation, she started to reach out and give Meg a call but stopped when she saw the clock. It was after eight on a Friday evening. Her social friend was likely on a date or at a party.

"Dad," she whispered with defeat into the vacant room. " Please don't take her away from me, too! I can't be this alone. Please! Give me some sign that you're still there. Help me."

Silence greeted her quiet plea. She was about to go back into the living room and drown her pain in the drone of the television. Then she felt it, though. It was a subconscious feeling of being watched, and her blue eyes began to search the kitchen frantically. Her heart beat quickly as she slowly turned in a circle. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally saw a shadow move near the window, but it had vanished by the time she was completely turned around. Only the slight sway of the curtain served as proof that anything had been there.

After staring at the spot for a moment, she shook her head in self-disgust. "Now you're imagining things," she told herself, taking a seat and placing a hand to her bruised head. "You're going to go completely insane if you don't stop this."

Leaning back in the chair, she took a deep breath and gathered her senses.

If nothing else, at least the empty apartment would allow her to practice her singing without interruption.

* * *

Mrs. Antonia Giry adjusted the rearview mirror of her SUV for a moment, attempting to get a look at herself before she stepped outside. Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, she examined her hazel eyes and brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face. After reaching a point of satisfaction, she turned the mirror to the backseat and focused it upon her daughter. "Meg!" she exclaimed with a slight Brooklyn accent. "That skirt is completely wrinkled! Why on earth didn't you run an iron over it? It looks like you just plucked it out of the hamper!" 

"It looks fine, Mom," she replied, giving Christine an annoyed look as she flung the door open. "It was all I had this morning."

Mrs. Giry rolled her eyes. "This is somewhat of a big deal, Meg. There are going to be celebrities involved, and I would hate to see you not get the role for unprofessionalism."

Meg sighed and turned to Christine. "I really wish my mother was not involved in this," she whispered. "She seems to suck the fun out of everything. I'm nineteen, and she still is on to me about what I wear."

"What exactly is she doing here?" enquired Christine, self-consciously smoothing out her lavender blouse and black skirt. "You said she used to dance?"

"Yeah," replied Meg. "She used to be in a New York dance company before she met my dad. Now she just volunteers with things like this, helping to organize them and stuff. I think she misses the stage sometimes."

Christine nodded and watched as Mrs. Giry walked ahead of them with her head held high. She had always been somewhat intimidated by Meg's mother, though Mrs. Giry had been nothing but kind to her. The forty-eight year old woman always had her mouth fixed in a stern line and frequently wore expensive designer dress suits. Though she worked in real estate part time alongside her husband, Mrs. Giry was often involved with the theatrical projects around the town. Christine even had a vague memory of her helping with a fifth grade play many years back. Except for a few more wrinkles, Meg's mother had not changed much over the years.

Mrs. Giry checked her watch. "You guys have about twenty minutes to spare before auditions, but you may as well go ahead and find the room. I need to go speak to some people." She sighed and shook her head in disgust.

"Something wrong, Mom?" asked Meg.

"The two gentlemen who rented the theater for this performance don't seem to have a clue as to what they are doing. Both are from New York and just took over the charity event a week ago. I half expect them to take the money and run when it's over!"

"Not so loud, Mom!" Meg exclaimed through gritted teeth, glancing around. "Christine and I would like to at least have a shot at getting a role."

Mrs. Giry shifted her leather purse upon her shoulder. "I'm not being that loud, Meg." She began to head in the opposite direction. "You girls get going. I'll meet you out here later."

"Thank God that she's gone," muttered Meg. "She can be so anal about things like this. Everything has to be perfect."

"Yeah," replied Christine, distractedly looking around. It had been some time since she'd been to the Flynn Center, Burlington's largest live performance theatre. She had seen several Broadway shows there several years ago, though tickets became too expensive as time went on. A red curtain cloaked the stage, matching the thirty-one rows of seats that stretched back. At the top was a three-sectioned balcony, featuring some of the cheaper seating.

Meg broke her away from her thoughts as they passed the stage and walked into the back halls. "Look!" her friend whispered, clutching her arm excitedly. "It's Phillip Chagny and Sorelli!"

Christine looked up at the lavishly dressed couple as they strolled hand in hand down the corridor. Sorelli wore a sequined turquoise tank top and black miniskirt that perfectly defined her slim figure and long, tanned legs.

Though it had been some time, Christine recognized the handsome blond man accompanying her as Raoul's older brother. Dressed in a blue polo shirt and gray slacks, Phillip looked much more mature than the teenager who had teased Raoul and her in their youth. As he confidently walked down the hall, he whispered something into Sorelli's ear. She laughed lightly and tossed her honey-colored hair to the side.

"Wow!" whispered Meg, continuing to follow them with her eyes. "They make a gorgeous couple! Lord! You have to get in touch with his younger brother again! Robert?"

"Raoul," corrected Christine with a smile. "And like I said Meg, I don't think he'd remember me. His brother is a lot different than I remember him, though."

"Let's pray that Raoul looks the same as Phillip," replied Meg. "And...that you run into him again."

Christine rolled her eyes and giggled. She looked around. "Which way is our room?"

"This way," replied her friend, turning right. "I can feel myself getting more nervous by the moment."

Christine sighed as she turned the corner. "Tell me about it! I have no idea what I'm even doing here. There's no way I'm going to make it without some sort of divine intervention!"

"Maybe your ghost in the woods will give you a hand!" Meg laughed as Christine elbowed her. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, Christine."

* * *

Mr. Reyer sighed as he watched the last girl filter out and the next one come in. Rubbing his aching temples, he attempted to put on a somewhat cheerful face. "Christine Daae?" he questioned, suppressing a yawn and looking down his list. "Number two fifty-four for the role of Magnolia?" 

"Yes," she replied timidly.

The middle-aged man gave her a glance over as he did everyone else. She was pretty enough for the stage with her wavy blonde hair and angular face. The girl could have used a little more sun, perhaps, but her cheeks had a certain rosy glow to them, and she had an innocent look that would do well for the lead. Of course, it all would come down to her voice. Mr. Reyer had seen dozens of girls who had looked the part but placed his ears in a state of misery. "What are you going to be singing today, Christine?"

"_Someone to Watch Over Me_," she replied with a swallow. "Or if that's not okay, I can..."

"No, that's fine," he interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Go ahead."

Mr. Reyer listened to her sing for a few moments, before very discreetly crossing her name off the list. She had a pretty enough voice...perhaps what one would call a sweet soprano quality. It certainly wasn't powerful enough for the stage, though, and he had already crossed off girls with more talent.

"That will be good!" he called out in the middle of the song, eager to end the day. "We'll let you know how it comes out."

By the expression on her face, he could tell that she knew that the part wasn't hers. "Thanks," Christine said, her cheeks flushed as she quickly flew out of the room.

Mr. Reyer yawned and looked over his notes, before shuffling them together. So far, the only one who could handle the part was number one seventy-five, a girl named Charlotte Gregory. Though she wasn't the most amiable person, she did have the trained voice for the roll. Her resume was long and detailed, mirroring that of a professional.

After circling Ms. Gregory's name in red ink, Mr. Reyer began to get up from his chair. He was stopped by a voice directly behind him. "I would suggest placing Ms. Daae back on the list."

Mr. Reyer started to whirl around, but a hand clamped down roughly upon his shoulder. "No need to turn around, sir. Just do as I tell you, and you will be fine."

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling his heart increase at the chilly voice.

"Put Ms. Daae back on the list."

"I can't!" panicked Mr. Reyer. "Her voice isn't trained! I'll be fired if she gets on that stage!"

The hand squeezed his shoulder bone to the point of pain. "You won't be fired. Besides, I can think of worse consequences if you _don't_ put her name down. For the last time, do as I tell you."

Mr. Reyer winced but remained facing forward. With a sigh of fear, he picked up his pen and shakily wrote "Christine Daae" back onto the white sheet. Setting the pen back down, he waited.

"Very good, sir. I trust that you will keep our little conversation private?" Mr. Reyer had no choice but to nod and felt a wave of relief wash over him as the hand left his shoulder. When he whirled around to finally face his tormentor, he saw nothing but empty space. For a second, he considered taking the blonde girl's name off the list again. He decided against it.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the reviews everyone! I appreciate those who compliment the pace because sometimes I fear that the story moves a little slowly. After this chapter, things will begin to pick up quite a bit. I promise! (; Secondly, one major difference in this story will be Erik's domain. He's more like the Phantom of the East Coast than of just a specific building. And I do plan on giving him a fairly interesting past as well.

**Read and Review! Please review!**

"I know you are there," whispered the Iranian, turning the corner onto the next block. The street lights shone down upon the town, casting strange shadows across the buildings and pavement. Every once in a while, Nadir saw one of the dark shapes move out of the corner of his eye. "Still playing these games, my friend? Why don't you just show yourself?"

He received no response. A feeling of something between anger and fear surged through him. Nadir felt like a small animal being stalked by a predator, knowing that no matter which direction he took, he would not be safe.

"Where is that poor man? Could you at least tell me where the body is, so that poor wife of his can have some peace?"

Silence.

The anger overtook the terror. "Damn it, _Erik_! Show yourself!"

Two teenage girls gave the Iranian nervous glances as they quickly passed by. Nadir shook his head in self-disgust, knowing that he must look like a lunatic, raving to himself on the middle of a dark street.

"What are you doing, Erik?" he asked quietly, once no one else was around. "If you plan to kill me, why not just do it and get it over with? I'm not going anywhere."

Silence.

Nadir sighed and entered a restaurant. "Well, my friend. I guess our little game continues."

* * *

"Pour one cup of boiling water into rice mixture. Let sit for five minutes." Christine read the instructions on the cardboard box aloud, wishing she had enough money in her wallet to just order out for a pizza. She stared down at the meal with distaste, beginning to lose her appetite at the sight of the powdery grains. Without a car, shopping was nearly impossible. Mrs. Valerius occasionally had groceries delivered to the house, but they were bought on credit and under her guardian's name. 

Christine sighed, knowing that she could not go on like this much longer. She had already taken a great deal of time off from work after the accident, and her unpaid leave certainly wasn't helping her money troubles. With dismay, she knew she would have to ask for Mrs. Valerius's help... or risk starving to death.

Picking up the small pot of boiling water by the handle, Christine attempted to pour it into the mixture. She let out a short yelp of pain as some of the water splashed out and scalded her lower arm. Rushing to the sink, she began to run cold water over the small burn, wondering how she would ever survive on her own if she couldn't even cook a prepackaged meal.

Once the burn was soothed, the tired blonde began to wipe her hands off on an old dishcloth. The phone suddenly rang out from behind her, and Christine grabbed the receiver with a damp hand. Mrs. Valerius was supposed to be getting back her new test results soon, though the doctors had said very little so far. Christine was becoming more anxious as each day passed.

"Hello?" she answered, trying to maintain a steady voice.

"Ms. Christine Daae?" came an unfamiliar woman' s voice on the other end.

"This is she."

"Hi. I'm calling from the offices of the Flynn Center about your audition one week ago."

"Yeah," she replied with disinterest, already knowing the part was not hers.

"A decision has been made to put you in as understudy for the role of Magnolia. If for some reason the lead roll can't perform, you will have to take over. Of course, you will be required to attend rehearsals and learn the lines. I'm calling to confirm your acceptance of the position."

Christine blinked several times in disbelief. She'd done terribly at the audition and could see so in the eyes of Mr. Reyer as he quickly dismissed her. "Are you sure?" she questioned dumbly. "I only tried out once, and I...I wasn't even aware that there were understudies."

"I'm just the secretary here, Ma'am," the woman replied with slight annoyance. "I don't have any idea how casting decisions are made. As for understudies, this performance is expected to have a fairly large audience. I imagine that a cancellation would be devastating to the charity and all those involved. Do you accept the position, Ms. Daae?"

"I...yes, of course," choked out Christine, still in shock. "Thank you so much!"

"Rehearsals begin next Tuesday, at which time you will be given more information."

"Okay! Thank you again!"

"You're welcome. Goodbye."

Christine hung up the phone and leaned against the counter, feeling as though she were in some spectacular dream. Perhaps she hadn't made the role, but she had been the second best there! A feeling of pure elation overtook her, and she forgot all of her earlier troubles for a moment. After turning off the stove, she did a little twirl in the kitchen before heading back to the living room.

She would have to call Meg! And Mrs. Valerius would be proud of her. And maybe...maybe even her father was, too. Maybe he could see her!

Glancing out the window and into the night, Christine swore she saw two golden stars shining down from the sky. When she blinked, though, the little lights were gone.

She quickly made two wishes, for what else could they have been but a pair of beautiful shooting stars?

* * *

"This is so great!" exclaimed Meg with an enormous grin as they walked into the front entrance of the Flynn Center. "I'm so glad you get to come with me to rehearsals. And it's almost like you're even in the play!" 

"I know!" Christine replied with more vigor than usual. Her normally calm blue eyes seemed to sparkle with energy, and her face held a genuine smile. "I was so shocked when they phoned me. The secretary probably thinks I'm a complete idiot. She was kind of rude on the phone, actually."

Meg giggled. "Actually, a lot of people here are kind of rude." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Speaking of which, my mother has been fuming all morning." She lowered her voice. "She hates those two new guys that head the charity."

"Why?" Christine questioned, seeing with relief that Mrs. Giry was already far ahead of them. "What happened?"

"She was trying to tell them how to run things...like she always does," replied Meg, still grinning. "One of the managers finally told Mom that her assistance wouldn't be needed with the play. He told her that she could help with seating, if she wanted to. She was so angry when she got home!"

"What did she do?"

Meg laughed. "That's the funny part! She actually took them up on their offer. I guess Mom thinks that she can still find a way to control things, even if she is only an usher."

"Or maybe she just likes to be involved with the stage," replied Christine, feeling some need to defend Mrs. Giry. Though she was a stern woman, she did seem to want what was best for her daughter.

"Maybe," said Meg with a shrug of her shoulders. "Oh. Here we are!" She veered left out of the corridor and into a room. Christine followed.

"It's kind of small," murmured Christine, looking around. The room contained a couple of chairs, a blackboard with notes scrawled onto it, and several desks; looking more like a classroom than anything else. A large number of other people her age loitered inside, conversing in small groups or sitting on the floor with their scripts in hand. She recognized one or two of them as Meg's friends but most were unfamiliar.

"I think they're just going to explain things today," Meg said, gazing around. "None of the actors from New York are here yet, and I doubt we're going to start today. They just want to talk to the amateur performers and set crew." The brunette glanced to the left and nudged Christine's arm. "That's Charlotte Gregory over there in the corner...the one who got the lead role. She's going to be the one thing about this that isn't so fun."

Christine glanced over at the moderately attractive dark-haired girl. Charlotte was currently gazing down at her painted nails with a bored expression, every once in a while muttering something to the girl beside her. Christine started to say something to Meg, but the chitchat suddenly quieted, and she saw that an older man had entered the room.

Running a hand through his graying hair, he adjusted his thick-framed glasses and looked down at his notes before speaking. "Good evening, everyone," he began, still staring at his papers. "My name is Arthur Remy. I don't have a lot of time tonight, but I just wanted to give you the schedules and basic scripts...maybe answer a few questions." He quickly passed out several printouts to everyone in the room and waited for the noise of rustling paper to die down. "Let's see...rehearsals are only Tuesdays and Thursdays at first. They'll get more frequent as we get closer to opening night. Set designers can kind of plan their own schedules but keep me up to date. Don't go over the assigned budget, please..."

The nervous man continued to go through the odds and ends of the play, his monotonous voice causing some of the people to yawn and frequently check their watches. Mr. Remy seemed more concerned with schedules and finances than the performance itself, and Christine felt some of her earlier excitement fade away. She hadn't realized that there were so many technical details involved.

"I don't think I can come in every Thursday," Charlotte finally interrupted, looking even more bored than earlier. "I have several appointments on Thursdays. It shouldn't matter, though. I already know most of the lines."

Mr. Remy shot her an irritated glance. "Yes...well. It's required that you attend most rehearsals so that you are able to interact with the cast. Surely you can make arrangements."

Charlotte gave a loud sigh. "I guess. When do the real actors get here?"

"Everyone in here is a real actor or actress, Ms. Gregory. If you mean the guest actors from New York, they'll get here in about two weeks." He took a deep breath and checked his own watch. "I guess that's enough for now. Any more questions before we get out of here?" Christine timidly raised her hand. "Yes?"

"I just...I'm the understudy for Magnolia, and I was wondering how well I should learn everything. I mean...I'll need to practice singing and reading lines. Will I rehearse at all?"

Mr. Remy hesitated. A strange look crossed his wrinkled face, as he gazed upon the quiet blonde girl. "Let's not worry about that now," he finally replied with a gentle tone. "Hopefully nothing will happen to our lead."

"It won't," said Charlotte, staring directly at Christine. "Anyway, can we leave now?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Remy, eagerly. "Feel free to go!" Everyone quickly shuffled their way out, murmuring to one another about the upcoming performance. Several girls were complaining about the drive to the theater, obviously living far outside of the town. A couple of the guys were already discussing set designs. Christine and Meg lagged several yards behind.

"You were right about Charlotte," whispered Christine, as they walked down the hall. "I think she already hates me."

"She hates everybody. Even the professors get tired of her in class. But she's got a good voice so no one ever does anything about her attitude." Meg sighed. "You just have to ignore her."

"I'll try. I hate having enemies, though. So far, I've managed not to make many."

Meg shook her head and smiled. "That's because you hardly talk to anyone!"

"I..." Christine eyes suddenly widened, and she stopped in the middle of the hall. "Oh, Meg! I left my purse back in the room. I don't know how! It was right next to me!"

"Don't worry, Christine. It's probably still there. I need to speak with some of the other girls about stage designs, anyway. Meet you at the front in a minute?"

"Sure," replied Christine with a wave, quickly making her way back down the hall before she lost what little money she had. She struggled for a moment to remember exactly what room it had been in, looking left and right down the empty corridors. Every white door looked exactly the same, and many of the lights had been turned off as people headed home for the evening.

Finally, Christine found what she thought to be the correct room and opened the door. With dismay, she immediately saw that it contained an array of wooden cabinets and some pieces of scenery, painted to look like mountains. She grunted in frustration and started to turn back around. Her purse was probably stolen by now, anyhow, and she didn't like the feeling of being the only one left in the building.

Then she heard it.

"Christine."

She froze and gripped the doorframe at the sound of her name, her heart skipping a beat as she looked around for the source of the strange whisper. Had she imagined it? Seeing nothing but quiet darkness, she began to turn back around again.

"Christine Daae."

There was no mistaking it this time. "Hello?" Christine shakily murmured, continuing to back up to the doorway. "Is someone there?"

"Have you misplaced something?" It almost seemed to mock her with the question, and she now realized that the voice, though unusual, was not entirely unfamiliar.

"Who's there? I can't see you!" A panic began to rise in her throat.

"Just a friend, Christine. And, as I once told you, seeing me would do you no good."


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews guys! They keep me writing!

Someone asked how closely this was going to follow the book. My answer is that it will follow the original with just enough twists to keep it unique. Hopefully it will turn out well. I'm thrilled that everyone is enjoying Erik's characterization. He's fun, though sometimes difficult, to write. Finally, this story may end up being pretty long. So...hope that's okay. :)

Note: The document manager kept running my words together when I edited. I've checked it over, but there could still be a few mistakes.

**Read and Review!**

_Seeing me will certainly do you no good..._

Christine's eyes widened as the phrase returned to her. She now realized the haunting voice to be that of the apparition she had encountered on the night of the accident. The ethereal timbre and unnatural tone cut through the dark as it had before, almost hypnotizing her. As her breath increased and her heart hammered, Christine took another unsteady step backwards.

"Who are you?" she finally choked out, desperately looking for the owner of the voice around the shadowy room. A part of her felt the need to run, yet her feet remained fastened to the floor.

"Calm down, Christine. I am merely a friend...an admirer."

"But I can't see you!" she protested. "Where are you? How do you know me?" Again, she knew she should escape, but something kept her there. Loneliness? Curiosity? She wasn't sure.

"No one _ever _sees me. I am..." It paused for a moment. "I am much too important to be seen by anyone. A...celebrity, you might say."

"A celebrity?" Christine blinked in surprise, her eyes gazing toward the ceiling in search of an intercom or speaker...anything that would serve as an explanation. She found nothing, but the room was too dark for her to see much. "Are...are you an actor?"

"Something like that." It almost sounded amused. "No more questions, Christine. The only thing you must know is that I am here to assist you."

"What?"

"I want to help you improve in your singing abilities. Your voice is very unique...just in need of training. I can provide that. I can make you shine."

Christine felt her head began to cloud, as if the voice were a fog invading her mind. "I..I..." She stuttered for a moment. "How?"

"Just as you are now. You will come here, or a vacant room of your choosing, and sing after each rehearsal. I will evaluate your strengths and weaknesses. There is nothing difficult involved." Several notes suddenly rang out from a hidden piano, floating in the air for a moment before being cut short. The sound awoke her...as did the strange offer.

Christine swallowed and took another step back. "Could...could I please see you? This is very...it's very strange to only hear you."

"No. Do not ask that again. This is a unique opportunity, Christine. I suggest that you accept the offer with no petty conditions."

"I...I'm sorry." The panic was growing. " I can't, though." Her heart was racing. "This is...I do not know who you are, and I..." Christine suddenly turned on her glued heels and fled down the dim corridor, as if she were afraid the voice would suddenly grab her and sweep her into the nothingness. Her heels clicked quickly against the linoleum tiles as she ran, and her mind was void of any goal except to get as far away as possible.

Feeling her sides ache with the exertion, Christine slowed her pace somewhat as she neared the exits. Just as she laid a clammy hand on the glass doors, another hand suddenly came down upon her shoulder. She let out a loud screech before turning around. "Meg!" she gasped out, clutching her heart.

"What is wrong?" Meg exclaimed, looking at her friend with concern. "I didn't mean to scare you. You're so pale, though. Are you okay?"

"No...I..." She took several deep breaths. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just tired." Christine didn't feel like explaining. She wasn't even sure if she could explain.

"Okay," replied Meg, giving her friend a confused look. "Mom has the SUV waiting out front. Are you sure you're okay? Did you find your purse?"

She had forgotten all about her purse! "No...I couldn't find it. It's okay, though. Let's...let's just go."

Meg nodded. "I'll ask Mom to check the lost and found tomorrow. Maybe it's there."

Christine nodded and looked back once into the empty theater. Had she imagined it somehow? Perhaps what had scared her the most was that she had almost wanted to stay...wanted to believe that someone was there to help her and was watching out for her. But a strange voice? That seemed to belong to no one?

Clutching her head, Christine followed her friend into the night, finding the cold air to be soothing to her flushed cheeks.

* * *

Arthur Remy sighed and shook his head before turning back around to face the two men before him. Both Mr. Firmin Richard and Mr. Armand Moncharmin were staring at him intently, awaiting his response with eager eyes. "So...you just want me to keep that poor girl in there while we rehearse? Why? I think she knows that she doesn't really belong here. And I still don't understand any of this." 

Mr. Richard swallowed before discreetly laying a check down upon the mahogany desk. He exchanged a look of worry with his partner before glancing back up at Mr. Remy. "Look. Here is five hundred dollars for you to do nothing but let Ms. Daae sit there during each rehearsal. It'd be nice if you'd at least pretend to work with her, but if you can't, then fine. Just allow her to stay there."

"But why? What purpose is this serving? Who the heck let her through the auditions?" He attempted to keep his eyes away from the tempting strip of paper.

Mr. Moncharmin chose to cut in, running a hand through his trim beard. "Truthfully, it's a bit difficult to explain...except that the girl seems to have friends up in high places." He and Mr. Richard chuckled nervously. An awkard tension hung in the air.

Mr. Remy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, clearly unamused by the entire incident. "Fine. I'll allow her to stay. It's not that big of a deal. But I will say that this whole thing is beginning to sound corrupt to me." He slowly picked up the check with his thumb and index finger, before stuffing it into the pocket of his tweed suit.

The two charity directors privately exchanged smiles of relief, and Mr. Moncharmin stuck out a hand to the aging producer. "I assure you there is nothing corrupt here. Just business as usual."

Mr. Remy gave a weary nod and accepted the handshake. "Have a good day," he said, before quickly exiting the room.

Taking a seat at the desk, Mr. Richard let out a long sigh of relief. "That was damn close! I swear I'm regretting this entire thing. It's one thing when this nutcase follows us around, making us pay him hush money. It's another when he starts interfering with the shows. I still say we should just call the cops!"

Mr. Moncharmin frowned. "And we'd be the first to get arrested. Come on, Firmin! You knew what you were getting into with this."

"Not really! The only thing that we were told there was that there was one guy we had to pay off. No one told us that he was like a damned ghost. No one's even seen him! And believe me, I've asked some pretty shady people. Who the hell is this man?"

"Shhh!" exclaimed Mr. Moncharmin, raising his head up. "Someone is outside of the door." He turned around and opened it, his expression of annoyance quickly changing to one of feigned delight. "Mr. Chagny!" he exclaimed, giving the well-dressed younger man a sturdy handshake. "I was wondering when we were going to meet you! How are you? Enjoying your time out of the city?"

Phillip laughed and motioned his brother to follow him into the office. "Yes! It's always nice to have a break from the company. I can only hope it doesn't fall apart while I'm gone."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine! And let me immediately give you my thanks for donating such a large sum to this event."

Phillip nodded modestly. "We're always happy to help. My father was a good man in that respect. He always liked this charity and would have been happy to see the show so close to his alma mater this year."

"And we're very grateful for his help!" chimed in Mr. Richard with a smile. He glanced to the side. "And this is your younger brother?" he asked, eyeing the attractive younger man next to him.

"Yes it is," replied Phillip, stepping out of the way. "This is Raoul. I thought it'd be good to get him out of New York for a few days."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Raoul said, slowly sticking out a hand. He appeared somewhat awkward in the formal atmosphere, playing with the collar of his dress shirt as if it were choking him.

"Nice to meet you, too!" exclaimed Mr. Richard. "Are you staying in New York with your brother...or...?"

"I'm taking a semester off from college. Just doing some traveling and helping a little with the company."

"Yes," cut in Phillip, his mouth twisted in aggravation. "We just hope that Dartmouth will readmit him."

"Dartmouth? That's an excellent school! "

"Yeah," replied Raoul, shooting his older brother an annoyed look. "It was fine. I just...wanted a little time off."

"Very understandable!" exclaimed Mr. Moncharmin, continuously nodding his head in constant agreement. "Well...you two feel free to ask any questions. I'm sure we could get together for lunch some time. I don't know much about the town...but it can't be too hard to get around in." He laughed and gave Phillip a rough pat on the back.

"Definitely," replied Phillip, wincing. "We'll be back in town when the show starts in a couple of months. You two have a good day."

"Good bye!" exclaimed Mr. Richard. "Remember just to ask if you need anything!"

"We will," replied Phillip, quickly making his way back out. He sighed once the door was tightly closed. "I'm not sure if I trust them with my money," he muttered to his younger sibling as he adjusted his tie. "The other guys seemed a lot more competent. Oh well." He glanced down at his watch. "I have to meet Sorelli in twenty minutes. You want to go back to the hotel or...?" Phillip noticed that his younger brother was looking down the corridor, following the path of a group of college-aged girls as they strolled down the hall. He grinned. "They do have some nice looking dames out here, don't they?"

Raoul blinked and looked up. "Huh? Uh...yeah. I thought I saw someone I knew." He shrugged and looked back again. "Maybe not, though."

"Just tell me if you ever want an introduction to anyone. Maybe a girl would get you to settle down a little." He laughed and began walking toward the exit.

"I'm only twenty-two, Phillip," Raoul protested. "I don't think I need to start planning my wedding yet. Anyway..." He glanced back down the hall again. "Did that girl in the blue shirt look familiar to you? With the blond hair? I swear that I know her."

Phillip shrugged. "I don't know, Raoul. We'll be back in two months or so, and you can look all you want. Did you say you wanted to go back to the hotel or not?"

"Sure," Raoul replied, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the quiet blonde as he attempted to fall into stride with his older brother.

* * *

Christine sat on the edge of the stage during the first rehearsal, oblivious to the voices of the people gathered around her. Somewhere, she heard the director hollering out an order. Charlotte's voice complained about something new every couple of minutes, and deep laughter arose from a group of guys hunched over a piece of scenery. She didn't really hear what was being said, and no one seemed to notice that she was there. As a deep feeling of mourning consumed her, though, Christine decided that her state of invisibility was for the best. 

Meg Giry finally noticed her from where she was sketching designs.

"Christine?" her friend asked, sitting down next to her. "Are you okay? You haven't said anything today."

Startled, Christine looked up. "Huh? Oh. I'm fine, Meg. Just tired."

"You're welcome to come over with us and look at scenery. It is kind of weird how they're not teaching you the lines or giving you some vocal coaching. Maybe you should complain to someone."

"No. I'm fine." Christine choked slightly and turned her head away.

"Christine? What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath, feeling the desperate need to tell someone. "Mrs. Valerius's test results came back last night. The cancer...it's spread everywhere. The doctor doesn't think she has more than three months left. And there's nothing they can do!" It took all of her willpower not to burst into tears. Meg wrapped her arms around her friend's thin shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Christine! I'm sorry it's that bad. Maybe they'll be able to treat it, though."

Christine shook her head. "There's nothing they can do." She wiped a hand over her face, hoping no one else would be able to see her distress. "I don't know what to do."

"All you can do is hope for the best. And feel free to come and stay at our house if you want."

"Meg!" called another girl from the other side of the room. "See what you think of this!"

Meg glanced over. "Be there in a second!"

"Go on over, Meg," Christine said, standing up and brushing herself off. "I'm going to run to the restroom, anyway. I'll meet you outside."

The brunette shook her head. "I'll come with you. You shouldn't deal with this by yourself."

Christine attempted a small smile and stepped off the stage. "No. I...I really would like some time to myself. I'll be back in a moment."

She turned and rushed out before Meg could say anything, blindly making her way down the hall. Perhaps she shouldn't have even bothered coming that day...yet something had pulled her back. Christine searched for a bathroom to duck into, where no one would be able to see her cry. A sick feeling gnawed at her heart, and she found herself just wanting to lie down and sleep.

_It's just spread too far _the doctor had said. _We can't do anything but ease her pain. _

Then Mrs. Valerius's words, always strong and full of hope. _I'll beat this, dear. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. _

Then they had cried together for over an hour, knowing deep down that each moment was now precious.

She finally threw open a door to a random room and just began sobbing into her hands. Though the only sound Christine heard was that of her own gasping breath and choked cries, she knew that she was not alone. A part of her also knew that she had found this supposed solitude on purpose. She wanted to hear the voice again. Christine swallowed thickly. "Are you there?" she whispered once she had recovered herself, looking around at what appeared to be a lounge of some kind. "Hello?"

"You know that I am."

"She's going to die," murmured Christine, staring at the ground as the voice wrapped around her. "She's going to die."

A moment of silence passed. "We all must die, Christine."

"I know," she sobbed, not caring if she was pouring her soul out to someone she had never seen. "But she's going to leave, and I'm going to be alone. I don't know what to do." With exhaustion, Christine sat down on the carpeted ground and hugged her knees up to her chest. The air suddenly seemed colder, even with her wool turtleneck.

"You will not be alone," it stated, in what she chose to believe were only words of comfort. "Surely you've figured that out by now. Allow yourself to mourn, though. It is a necessary part of life."

Christine didn't resist the soothing nature of the voice this time, allowing herself to be drawn into its melodious quality. She was desperate for anything that would numb the pain and dissolve the loneliness. "I want to sing for her," the young girl said softly, staring at the floor. "She's always wanted me to, and I always refused."

"And I will teach you how. Everyone will know your talent soon. Assuming you choose to accept my offer and do not go running off again."

Though she sensed the earlier hostility, Christine chose to ignore it. She sighed softly. "I don't think I'll be singing here. No one even notices me. But...I would like to sing for Mrs. Valerius before...before..." She tapered off and was silent.

"Don't think so small of yourself. I suggest you learn the part of Magnolia as if you were going to play it." Several chords from the score of the musical rang out into the air, before fading away into the darkness from where they had come.

The statement confused Christine, but she left it alone. "I will," she murmured. Brushing a tear from her eyes, she looked back up. "Are you sure I can't see you?" she asked meekly. "It would be easier...sir."

"No, Christine. Do not ask."

She nodded in resignation as a foreign feeling of calmness overtook her. "When do I start?"

"Now, Christine. We start now."


	9. Chapter 9

Hi all! Many thanks for the reviews! I hope this chapter has a nice balance of fluff and suspense!

As they are performing a musical in this, I will make some references to songs and such. It won't affect the story if you're not familiar with them. One thing I don't like doing is writing too many song lyrics within a fic. I'll do it on occasion for effect but don't expect it often.

**Read and Review! **

Christine had always considered herself a practical person, doing what had to be done without procrastination or hesitation. She had been poor most of her life, depending on first her father's meager income as a guitar teacher and later Mrs. Valerius' social security check for the basic necessities. Though her father and guardian were loving people, they were not college-educated, and Christine had been forced to climb her own way through the world. Often she had spent her hours studying and working while her peers were out dating and partying.

Yet, even with years of reason and levelheadedness, the young blonde walked into the theater for the third time knowing very well that she would spend much of the several hours talking with a disembodied voice. In her grief, she refused to dwell on the strangeness of the situation, nor did she consider any potential danger. Whatever the voice was, it had come to her assistance. Someone cared about her. Someone wanted to help her.

As Christine entered through the front double doors, glancing at her windblown reflection in the glass, she was immediately met by Meg. "Christine! I didn't see you leave last time. Where did you go?"

Christine blinked once in surprise, awakened from her reverie. "Huh? Oh. I just...went home early. I was tired that night."

Her friend gave her a puzzled look but nodded. "Oh! I can understand that! How is everything going? Are you...doing okay?"

Christine attempted to meet her friend's eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine. No new test results have come in or anything."

Meg nodded. "Hopefully everything will work out."

"Yeah," murmured Christine, staring off into space for a moment. Her eyes inadvertently glanced around the building, though she wasn't sure what she expected to find. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

The two girls silently made their way to the back of the stage, immediately hearing an anxious female voice come from one of the corners. An eighteen-year-old brunette named Melissa was talking frantically to some of the other stage crew, her brown eyes wide with excitement.

"I just went back there to look for some felt for the costumes!" she exclaimed, motioning toward one of the rooms. "Something jumped out in front of me! I nearly had a heart attack."

"Like an animal?" asked one of the guys.

"No! Like a person, I think. But it was too dark to see anything!"

"So maybe it was an employee," remarked Charlotte, keeping her distance from the crowd. "Why is it such a big deal?"

Melissa threw her a scowl before turning back to her captivated audience. "It looked like a giant shadow, and its eyes were glowing like a cat's." The others looked at her skeptically. "I am dead serious!"

"Did it say anything?" enquired Meg, eager to be in on the fun.

Melissa shook her head. "I didn't stick around to find out! Nearly twisted my ankle running out of there!"

"That is freaky," murmured Meg, returning to Christine's side. "But she could be making it up. Melissa can be kind of dramatic about things."

"Uh-huh," replied Christine with disinterest, as everyone else continued to chatter and speculate about the occurrence. She only looked up when Mr. Remy entered. The older man set his briefcase down with a sigh and looked around the stage tiredly through his thick glasses.

"Okay, everyone. Listen up!" He attempted to break through the noise. "Got a little good news on the budget. And a couple of the professional actors are going to be here by next week. I have some quick printouts of who they are. Don't be afraid to ask them questions."

Christine stayed in the background as the rest of the crew gathered around Mr. Remy, feeling unneeded and invisible. Why they had placed her in position of understudy was really beyond her. It almost seemed like a cruel joke.

Her clear blue eyes darted to the exits. No one would even notice if she left now.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she jogged down the stage steps and into the corridor. The hallway was nearly vacant, except for an elderly janitor sweeping the floor. Christine dodged into the lounge that she had entered last time, fondly remembering the expensive plush furniture and vibrant floral decorations within the room. She was slowly beginning to learn her way around. .

"Hello?" she whispered, glancing around in the dark. Her heart pounded with anticipation, and she quickly quashed the fear that had come on her previous encounters.

For a moment there was silence, and Christine again feared everything to be a product of her imagination.

"Good evening, Christine."

Her heart seemed to calm immensely at the sound. She flicked on one of the lights and made her way to a velvet couch. Not to her surprise, the fluorescent lighting revealed nothing out of the ordinary. She was the only one in the room. "You're here," Christine stated, her voice quivering slightly. She cleared her throat. "I...memorized a lot of the lines like you told me to. The songs are kind of difficult, but...I was hoping..."

"I will help you learn the music, as I've said I would. Do not worry about that."

Christine nodded eagerly. "Thank you, sir. I'm still not sure why you want me to learn it, though." She looked down at her slender hands. "They...ignore me when I'm out there."

"You'll understand everything in time. I assure you, though, that they won't ignore you one day. They will adore you!"

She smiled and looked up. "Thanks," she replied softly. "If nothing else, though, I just want to make Mrs. Valerius happy."

"You will make her happy, Christine." The voice paused. "I think it's time to begin." The mysterious piano played a string of chords. "Some warm-up scales first?"

"Yes. But...will anyone hear me and come in? What should I say to them?"

"It's not unusual for people to practice roles or receive lessons," it replied sharply. "Let's begin."

She quickly nodded and stood up straight, feeling a sudden emotional sting at her instructor's harsh tone. A strong need came over her to please him and to earn his approval. Christine did the scales to the best of her ability, up and down with the patterns of notes. It almost hurt to sing such a range after many years of keeping silent, and she sighed in frustration after her voice cracked at a high note.

"You will simply have to strengthen your voice," it stated firmly but gently. "Practice brings a higher range and precise pitch."

She nodded. "I know, sir. It just feels kind of hopeless."

"It is _not _hopeless," the voice retorted back. Christine jumped slightly. "Do you intend to put effort into this or not?"

"Yes! Of course I do! I'm sorry..." Her lip quivered slightly, and she clenched her nails into her palm.

"It is fine. We will start with a simpler piece. Sing through it once, and I will instruct on improvements. The songs are not that difficult." Her shoulders relaxed at his calmer tone. It seemed as if his voice had complete control over her emotions.

Christine took a breath and went through Magnolia's part of _Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man_. She tried to match her voice to that of Kathryn Grayson, whom had played Magnolia in the 1950s film, but she came out weak and off-pitch. As she sung the last words, Christine lowered her head to gaze at the floor. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That was terrible."

"Your timbre was fine. Everything else will come with time."

He continued to instruct her on everything from pitch, to range, to tone...knowing exactly where stresses should be placed and how long notes should be held. Christine found herself to be childishly fascinated with his extensive knowledge...wondering briefly if he was some kind of professor. She absorbed every word he said and stored it in the corners of her mind, forgetting all else but his voice, her voice, and the small lounge that held them both. Having nowhere else to look, she simply kept her gaze on the ceiling while he was talking...as if the voice came from a heavenly being from above. And as far as she was concerned, perhaps it did.

"That is enough now," he finally said, breaking her from her trance. "You did well today."

She shook her head quickly in an attempt to clear it and glanced at her digital watch. Nearly four hours had passed! "Oh! It's late. I didn't even notice." The voice said nothing. "Thank you so much for this. I'll...be back on Thursday. But...I have to start work soon. I'm not sure of my schedule yet."

"You'll do what you have to," it enigmatically stated. "But before you leave, check the corner next to the door. You may find something you want."

Christine turned and glanced over. "My purse! How did it get there? I thought it was stolen!" She slowly picked it up and strung it over her shoulder, before looking back into the empty room. "Thanks," she said softly. Receiving no reply, she turned off the light and made her way out. Everyone else had already left.

Walking through the corridor at a fast pace, she was relieved to find that the doors remained unlocked. The air outside was cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she began her way to the bus station. She jumped as she suddenly brushed shoulders with someone and turned to see a man heading in the opposite direction. In the dim light, it was difficult to see his features, but she thought he looked familiar. "Excuse me," Christine murmured, quickly passing by.

"Sorry, Ma'am," came a startled reply.

* * *

Nadir watched the young girl head off for a moment, wondering what she was doing out at this hour by herself. Perhaps the building was open later than he had thought. With a shrug, the Iranian glanced back up at the theater, a small shiver traveling down his spine. 

He had heard rumors as of late...of odd happenings inside...of some sort of extortion taking place. Gossip seemed to travel fast in that area of town. If you listened carefully to the conversations in the cafes, you would know all the local happenings within a week.

At the same time, Nadir was beginning to wonder if his old friend was even still there. He hadn't sensed the shadowy presence as of late, and perhaps his masked comrade had decided to take off before Buquet's body was discovered. Or maybe he had occupied himself with something else. You could never really tell with Erik. He was damn unpredictable.

Nadir hesitantly placed a hand on the cold door handle, wanting to just take a quick look inside. As he cracked open the door, a familiar sensation overtook him. His stomach clenched with the knowledge that he was being watched. The Iranian froze in his steps and looked around at his dark surroundings. And then he saw it. The tall shadow standing feet away from him...two yellow dots following his movement.

"Erik!" he whispered in shock. The temperature plunged twenty degrees.

"Wonderful detective work, Nadir!" exclaimed the voice he had never forgotten, dripping with malicious sarcasm. "But I'm tired of this game now. Do you really want to die that badly?"

It took Nadir a moment to recover himself from the shock "Erik...What are you doing?" he hoarsely whispered. "You promised no more of this chaos! That man is dead, isn't he?"

The yellow dots grew larger with contempt. "What I do isn't your business, friend. I was hoping I'd never see you again, but apparently you've traveled across the ocean to visit me." He laughed coldly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You know why I'm here, Erik! You lied to me! That ...that _stuff _is missing. You brought it here! I don't know how the hell you did it! But you managed to get it past every international checkpoint!"

"Calm down, Nadir," he replied, unfazed by the Iranian's anger. " I did no such thing. In fact, I've done absolutely nothing but make a living in this splendid country. Now go back to where you came from and leave me alone. You're rather irritating." The shadow folded his arms, signifying his boredom with the conversation.

Nadir glared. "Then why is it missing, Erik? I know you didn't just get rid of it. That would be too damn decent of you!"

"I don't owe you any more explanations, Nadir," the shadow stated with more hostility. "You find out where it's gone if you're so concerned. I suggest you leave this town, though. Unless you really do have a death wish." The yellow dots became smaller, and the shadow backed up. "For your own sake, I hope this is the last conversation we have."

Before Nadir could say anything, the shadow was gone. He stood there shaking for a moment, before backing away from the doors.

A large part of him wanted to heed his friend's advice...to leave the town...to leave the country. Yet, Nadir knew he would do no such thing. The Iranian would be responsible for whatever happened, though he knew it would likely kill him in the end.

By allowing Erik to live so many years ago, he was already responsible for any disaster that occurred.

* * *

Christine lay sprawled out on the sofa with her feet propped up on the armrest and her hands folded behind her head, staring blankly at the stained ceiling of the apartment. Next to her on the table were several texts and a notebook, strewn aside several hours earlier. Though she knew she had two exams the next day, she continued to avoid studying. Her mind was lost in a fog, and she was in no mood to find her way out of it. 

Looking up at the wall clock, she saw that it was one in the afternoon and sighed. Had she eaten lunch? She didn't really remember. As Christine sat up, her stomach answered the question with a growl of protest, and she started to get up and make her way to the kitchen, hoping there was at least a jar of peanut butter in the refrigerator. Two loud knocks at the front door startled her, and she turned back around and looked through the peephole before opening it.

"Christine Daae?" enquired a teenage boy in a blue uniform.

"Yeah," she replied, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm from Benson's Groceries. I've got a pretty big delivery for you."

Christine tilted her head and squinted in confusion. "I'm sorry. I didn't order anything. Maybe you should try my neighbor..."

The guy shrugged and looked down at his chart. "It's got your name right on it, and it's paid for. You wanna take a look at some of the items?"

Grabbing her green jacket from a hanger, Christine stepped outside to look into the dozen or so bags on her doorstep. She was surprised to see that they contained the items she and Mrs. Valerius normally bought. Several cans of Campbell's soup and a box of Kraft Macaroni lay in one sack. The rose-scented shampoo and soap she often used were sitting to one side, along with other toiletries. Dozens of cans of Dr. Pepper, her favorite soda, were stacked in boxes on top of each other. There were even several bottles of aspirin and a box of expensive Asian tea.

"So are they yours?" asked the guy with slight annoyance at her delay.

She hesitated, still staring at the items. "Um. Yeah. They are." In somewhat shock, she held the door open and allowed him to lay the groceries in the entryway. Though a part of her still wondered if this was some sort of mistake, a coincidence couldn't explain what was being delivered.

After several minutes, he finished and turned to leave with a nod. "Wait!" she called out. "Let me give you something for all this." Christine rushed over to her leather purse and pulled out her billfold, realizing she hadn't looked inside since she'd retrieved it. The night before had been so exhausting that she'd immediately gone to bed.

Unzipping the part that contained the bills, Christine blinked twice in utter disbelief. She stared down in shock at the dozens of hundred dollar bills in her purse...likely more than two thousand dollars.

"Are you okay?" asked the delivery boy. "If you don't have anything, it's fine..."

"No," she murmured. "I do." Christine quickly pulled out a crumpled five and handed it to him.

"Thanks!" he said with a grin. "Have a good day." She nodded blankly and shut the door. Taking a breath, she looked between the pile of groceries upon her floor and the open pocketbook on the coffee table. After checking to make sure the driver's license in the billfold was hers, she slowly reached and picked up the phone, dialing the number of Mrs. Valerius' hospital room.

"Hello?" answered her guardian's voice.

"Hi. It's Christine."

"Hi, dear! How are you?"

She hesitated. "I'm fine. Did you...did you order groceries to be delivered to the apartment this afternoon?"

"No," Mrs. Valerius replied apologetically. "I just haven't had time. Maybe I could get them to let you use my charge card, though. I know it must be difficult for you."

"No," Christine murmured, looking at the bags. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure, dear?"

She paused for a moment. "Yes. Everything is fine."


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for the great reviews on those chapters guys! I'm glad you're enjoying this! As many of you noted, I'm trying to keep it both sweet and dark at the same time. To those who are curious about Erik's secret, it will be revealed with time and will have much more significance later in the story.

Comments and constructive criticism about the pace of the story, the characterizations, etc. are all welcome. After this chapter, we'll be at about the place where the book begins. As I said earlier, this may end up being a fairly long story.

**Read and Review!**

As soon as she entered the lounge, Christine laid her purse upon a small coffee table and flicked on the light. From outside, she could hear the male voices of the stage crew as they searched for necessary building materials. Her shoulders tensed, for she continued to fear that someone would come in and discover her supposedly talking to herself. And then what? If she wanted to continue to hear her instructor's seemingly divine voice, she would have to lie.

Christine inhaled deeply and waited several moments, her eyes wandering around the vacant room. She ignored the feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach and finally spoke. "Hello? Sir?"

"Christine," the voice greeted, slightly startling her as it always did. "Are you ready to begin?"

Her muscles relaxed at the sound. "Yes. I am." She hesitated and wrung her hands. "It's just that..."

"Just that what?" it enquired gently.

"Did you...did you place that money into my purse?" she stuttered out, hoping he wouldn't think her insane. "I found...thousands of dollars inside my billfold. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't a mistake."

The voice laughed. "You should learn to accept gifts, Christine. Were you not in need of funds?"

She glanced up with slight surprise. "No. I was very grateful for it. But...but why would you...? I mean...why do you want to help me?"

"I never said that I was the one to give it to you, did I?" the voice challenged. "Stop fretting and accept it as a gift from a friend. Let us begin."

"Yes, sir," Christine quickly replied, knowing that another inquiry would anger him. She didn't dare ask him about the groceries. Besides...that would have been ridiculous. Surely this...this mysterious instructor could not know her precise purchases and habits.

Placing the strange thoughts from her mind, Christine corrected her posture and followed along with the piano, immediately noticing that her voice was becoming stronger. She had spent hours practicing in the empty apartment, attempting to learn the lines and music to the level of perfection that her instructor seemed to demand. As her voice made it up to the higher notes of the piano, she couldn't help but smile a little.

"That was done very well," the voice said with satisfaction, as the last piano note faded into silence.

"Thank you," she said, looking upward. "You've helped me so much. The vocal exercises you told me to do were great!"

"I simply work with what I'm given, Christine. Now...have you learned the lines? After rehearsals have progressed past being pointless social events, you will need to observe the cast. Our lessons will have to be changed to a different time."

She nodded but bit her lip. "I have learned most of the lines. But...it may be difficult to come in at different times. I go back to work again next week. Maybe..." She was quickly interrupted.

"If you want to succeed, you will have to devote a great deal of time to this. Are you still not able to pay your bills? I'm sure arrangements can be made."

That sharp edge had returned to the voice, and Christine flinched as her gaze drifted to the floor. A feeling of something akin to shame went through her. "I can pay them now, sir. But...the money won't last forever. Plus there's college tuition. I promise I'll still come here as much as I can. I'll devote all my free time to it!" For a second, she realized that she was almost begging. As the voice took on a soothing quality, though, her mind was swept away from her again.

"We will see how everything comes around," it said gently. "Just remember that you will never be alone, Christine, and that most problems can be solved very easily. Whatever you need, you will likely get."

"Thank you," she whispered, her blue eyes glazing over slightly.

"Let's begin with the same song as last time."

The piano played, and she sang.

* * *

"You've been really distant these last couple of weeks." 

"Mmhm."

"Christine?" Meg tilted her head and gave her friend a curious look. Behind them, the cast was preparing for another day of rehearsals. The smell of freshly cut wood drifted into the air as the scenery and props were created, and the din of people murmuring their lines to themselves or discussing plans sounded throughout the room. Someone sung out an extremely high note, causing the rest of the room to cringe and then laugh. Overall, the mood was positive, and the production was on schedule. Several of the guest actors from New York had made appearances, helping everyone else to improve in their work.

Christine had been watching some of the rehearsals for the past few weeks, learning the stage directions and cues. She still felt somewhat purposeless just sitting in the background while everyone else prepared. Only the odd promises of her instructor kept her returning. At the moment, she was just staring out into the empty rows of red chairs with a blank expression, only turning around as her friend repeated her name. "Christine?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Meg. I was just thinking about something." She rubbed a hand over her shadowed eyes and yawned, feeling strangely tired all of a sudden.

"You're sure you're okay? You don't talk to me that much anymore. And you always leave so early. Where do you go?"

Christine shifted awkwardly. "I'm fine, Meg. Just busy. I just...take some time to myself." Her friend continued to stare at her with an unconvinced expression. She was relieved when they were both distracted by an argument on the other side of the room between Charlotte Gregory and Trevor Purcell, a senior from St. Michael's College playing Magnolia's lover.

"If you don't know your lines, then why bother rehearsing it!" snapped Charlotte. "It's a waste of time."

Trevor scowled and drew back. "What is your problem? I stumbled over one word in the entire scene. The play isn't even for a couple more weeks." He shook his head and walked toward some of his friends with a look of disgust. A technical assistant muttered something obscene, and all five of them chuckled. Charlotte rolled her eyes and whirled around.

Meg shook her head. "This would be so much more fun if she wasn't here. I don't know how those two are ever going to do a love scene." She shrugged it off and held up a prop that was painted blue to look like a river. "I hope this works well enough. It got a little smeared earlier."

Christine smiled, glad Meg had forgotten their discord. "It looks great, Meg! The set is going to be gorgeous." She then glanced down, pulling back her sweater sleeve to check her watch and wondering if it was time to go to her lesson. The voice had said just to stay for rehearsals, and, except for a few of the dancers, most people were starting to pack up. Mr. Remy stood in the background, going over some final notes with his usual anxious expression. "I think I'd better get going," Christine began before being interrupted by Charlotte's angry voice. She looked up.

"Who gave me this?" Charlotte asked, looking around the room and waving a piece of paper in the air. Her enraged green eyes fell on Trevor.

"Gave you what?" he asked with annoyance.

She let out a grunt of anger and looked down to read the contents of the note aloud. "Dear Ms. Gregory. It would be in your best interest to forfeit the roll of Magnolia to someone more deserving. They say the flu season is quite nasty this year. Best regards."

Everyone in the room erupted into laughter. Meg walked over and glanced at the note. "It looks like a five-year-old wrote it in red marker," she said with a grin. "My little cousin has better handwriting."

"It's still a threat!" raged Charlotte. "Now who wrote this?"

"Calm down, Ms. Gregory," said Mr. Remy from across the room. "It would be much appreciated if someone would fess up, but I don't think it's anything more than a harmless joke."

"Yeah," said Trevor. "Besides...they're threatening you with the flu? That's stupid." The others murmured in agreement, smirking at Charlotte's fit.

With an angry sigh, Charlotte snatched up her purse and stormed out of the room. Two of her friends quickly trailed behind her with calls of reassurance. Mr. Remy sighed. "I think that's enough for today. And guys? No more jokes like that. I'll have to start showing the police if we see any more threats. Understood?"

Everyone nodded and began to gather up their belongings. A general feeling of unease hung in the air, broken every once in a while by a stray joke or laugh. Christine quietly backed unnoticed out of the room, happy to see that Meg was occupied with some other girls. Darting down the familiar corridor, she walked into the lounge and shut the door.

"Hello," she calmly said as she entered. After a while, talking to the ceiling had become almost natural. The voice was simply a part of the room. She would have been more disconcerted if it hadn't replied.

"Good evening, Christine. Did you enjoy rehearsals?"

"Yes," she said, slowly lowering herself onto one of the plush blue couches and folding her hands into her lap. "Except for this girl named Charlotte, everyone seems nice." Christine laughed. "Someone sent her a threatening letter. It was just a joke, but she was furious."

"We tend to get what we deserve," it replied, with what almost sounded like amusement. " Have you been practicing?"

"I practice every chance I get. Mrs. Valerius has been going through some new tests, so I've had to go visit her. And...work's started again, so that takes up time." She bit her lip and hesitated. "I may not be able to come for a week or two. My boss wants me to work several hours overtime." Christine shifted, feeling the tension increase in the room.

"Tell him that you can't." It was an order, not a suggestion.

"What?" She blinked and swallowed. "I don't really have a choice. He hasn't been too happy with me lately, and I really need the money."

"I told you that everything would be taken care of. You must make this your first priority, Christine."

The spell over her seemed to break at that moment. "But I'm not even going to be in the show. I'm an understudy! Why is this so important?"

She waited for a response, almost swearing that she could hear an angry sigh. Then there was silence. "Hello?"

Christine was greeted with nothing except the distant echoes of voices in the corridor. Her heart began to pound in the emptiness. "Sir? I'm sorry, but I...I have to work." Christine waited, turning in a circle as if to search her companion out. "Please say something. Please."

The quiet was nearly unbearable. She found herself almost desperate to hear the voice. If she lost it, what would be left? Who would be there for her? "Hello? Please say something."

Nothing. She waited for several more minutes.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered with a trembling lip. Hearing no reply, she picked up her purse and left the room.

* * *

Christine tapped the eraser of her pencil against the top of the front desk, looking up at the sound of drizzle against the glass window pane of the hotel. As each second ticked by on the wall clock, she seemed to feel more despairing. She now noticed that it was six p.m., the time her lesson would have begun. The voice was likely waiting for her, unless it really had disappeared after that day last week. 

For a moment, she puzzled over why it was just 'the voice.' Surely there had to be someone talking, and yet sometimes it seemed as though her instructor really was nothing by a voice. Somehow, it didn't matter. She wanted...no, needed to hear it. The hotel, which usually had been a place of comfort, now seemed small and confining.

"Miss?" came an irritated voice.

She looked up at an elderly female guest. "Huh? I'm sorry. Can I help you?"

"Yes. The heater is broken in our room. It's absolutely freezing in there!"

Christine nodded and attempted to focus. "I'll get someone to check it in just a minute."

The lady narrowed her eyes and continued to stand there. "Well don't you want to know the room number?"

"Oh! Yeah." Christine blushed in embarrassment and quickly jotted it down. The lady walked off, muttering about irresponsible young employees. As Christine brushed the hair out of her face and attempted to get organized, she saw her boss staring at her from the lobby with disapproval.

"Everything okay?" Daniel asked, arms folded. "You've been kind of inattentive lately. Two of the guests have complained that their bills weren't correctly figured."

"Yeah. I 've just been busy." Her eyes inadvertently wondered to the clock, and another feeling of anxiety overtook her.

"Christine, I..." The phone spared her from any more of Daniel's criticism. "Apollo Hotel. How may I help you?" her boss asked, picking up a pen. His face twisted in irritation. "Yes. I'll get her." He handed the phone to Christine and stood back. Two new guests came up to the front desk, and he wearily attended to them as Christine talked.

"Hello?" she asked, fearing it to be the hospital.

"Christine?" came Meg's uncertain voice.

"Meg? What's wrong?"

"I know you're at work, but I just had to tell you. My mom got back from the theater this afternoon. Guess what she told me? Charlotte is really sick!"

"What?" Christine replied, louder than she meant to. "What's wrong with her?"

"They don't know! They think it might be some weird foreign disease! They're like...quarantining her!" Meg sighed. "I almost feel bad for some of the things I said."

Christine paused. "She wasn't very nice, Meg. But that is terrible. What are they going to do when the show opens?" Daniel was now looking at her with a frown, and she shifted uncomfortably at the front desk.

"That's...kind of the good part," replied Meg. "You're the understudy. You get to be in the show until she's well...which could take several weeks, from what I've heard."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You're right," she murmured. "I would have to fill in..."

"Christine," said Daniel from beside her. "Maybe you can finish this conversation later? It's starting to get busy."

"I'm sure you'll be ready," said Meg. "I heard you practicing once. You're really good!"

"Thanks, Meg," she replied, still in somewhat of a daze. "Anyway, I need to go now. I'll call you tonight."

"Okay!" replied her friend cheerfully. "Talk to you later."

Christine hung up and looked at the clock on the wall for the millionth time. _He_ would still be waiting for her. And now that she was going to be on the stage, she desperately needed to talk to him. Her heart throbbed.

"Christine," said Daniel, interrupting her thoughts. "You haven't done any of the filing. Are you sure you're okay? This really isn't like you."

She shook her head. "I know. I'm fine. I'm just...the accident." _What if he refused to help her anymore if she didn't come? _

"Christine?"

She turned back to her manager and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go right now. It's...it's an emergency." Picking up her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder and gathered up her coat. A notebook and several pencils fell to the floor, but she chose to leave them there.

"Christine!" Daniel exclaimed. "You can't just walk out of here when you want. Now either explain this, or I'll be forced to have someone replace you." Several of the awaiting guests glanced over in curiosity. "Christine?"

She waved her hand and jogged out the double doors. "I'm sorry! I have to go." Stepping out into the rainy evening, Christine didn't notice the icy November air that nipped at her cheeks. She continued forward, toward the darkening sky and away from the confines of the brightly lit Apollo hotel.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the reviews as always guys! I love hearing from you, and you encourage me to write. (Even when I should be studying for midterms) Thanks to those who also reviewed my little morbid Halloween ficlet. I hope I didn't scare any readers away. :)**

As soon as she stepped back into the theater, Christine flew down the corridors, feeling a sudden onrush of warm air upon her frigid cheeks. She ignored the curious glances of the startled employees, keeping her eyes focused upon her destination. All else ceased to exist, save for the little lounge on the right side of the corridor. Nothing else seemed to matter.

After flinging open the door to the familiar room, she had to stop for several seconds and catch her breath. She had practically run there from the bus stop, nearly getting hit by a delivery truck at one point. The soles of her feet ached from sprinting in the dress shoes that she wore to work, and her blonde hair was tangled and windblown.

"Hello?" she finally asked, swallowing as she looked around. "Please answer. I'm so sorry I'm late. Please. You have to help me. I'm going to be in the musical now. Charlotte is sick!" She was nearly ready to get upon her knees and beg.

"Calm down. I'm here, Christine," the voice replied, breaking the terrible silence. "I would not abandon you."

Relief swept through her body, soothing her mind and her hammering heart. "Thank you. I was afraid you weren't going to speak to me anymore. I'm so sorry I'm late. I just..."

"The reason is not important," it interrupted. "You are here now, and you intend to stay. You intend to fully devote yourself. That is what matters."

"Yes," she whispered with a nod. "I'm staying no matter what. I don't know if I'm ready to play Magnolia yet, though. I can't believe that Charlotte got sick so quickly."

"You will be ready. You're already better than Ms. Gregory by far. It's almost a blessing that she fell ill. Wouldn't you say so?" The voice chuckled.

Christine shifted. "I...I'm not happy that she's sick. But the opportunity is amazing! I really can't believe it. I'm going to be on stage!"

"Believe. You will sing in front of this minuscule town, and then you will perform for the world. Have faith in yourself."

She smiled, feeling her cold cheeks become warm with a blush of pride. "Thank you. No one has ever...helped me so much. Ever." Christine stared at the empty ceiling for a moment before looking back down with a sigh. "Who are you? Sometimes I think that you're some kind of an angel." She laughed at herself. "I'm sorry. That sounded silly."

A long silence passed, and she was afraid she had somehow offended him again.

"I have told you. I am a friend... an admirer." It paused. "And if you wish it, Ms. Daae, then I am an angel."

It was all she needed to hear. Her mind seemed to float away from her.

"Are you ready for your lesson? We will have to stay a bit longer because of your lateness."

"Yes," she replied. "Of course."

* * *

Nadir watched curiously as the same blonde girl rushed out of the theater and ran off into the night. Though it was dark, he could make out a dreamy and distant expression upon her face in the parking lot lights. She didn't even notice him as she passed by, and the Iranian couldn't help feel that there was something very odd about the situation. 

Wiping a hand over his lightly stubbled chin, he brushed thoughts of her aside and puzzled over the matter at hand. It had been his original plan to sneak inside that night and look around. Perhaps he could find something to explain Erik's reason for sticking around so long. There was a charity event soon, but Nadir couldn't imagine Erik staying so near a murder for only monetary gain. His masked friend preferred quick and silent escapes.

Then there was that strange case of Charlotte Gregory, the young woman who had come down with some sort of rare virus. She was expected to make a full recovery, but health officials were still baffled as to how the disease had gotten into the country.

Surely Erik had nothing to do with that, though. He usually had a reason for his unwholesome activities, even if only a perverse excuse. What reason would he have for hurting an amateur actress?

The Iranian didn't have too much longer to wonder. His masked friend's voice suddenly came out of the darkness from an indiscernible direction.

"Isn't she marvelous, Nadir?"

"What?" The Iranian whirled around but saw nothing. He shuddered. "Erik? What is going on? Who is marvelous?"

"Nothing is going on, friend." The voice floated around him, though it didn't sound terribly malicious. Rather, he sensed a certain peacefulness in the tone.

Nadir hesitated. "Erik. That girl...the one who is sick. She has some disease that hasn't been seen in this country for over thirty years. Please tell me you didn't..." He tapered off for fear of his own well-being.

"Maybe she's been to a foreign country recently." Erik chuckled. "Ms. Daae will play the part perfectly, though."

Nadir swallowed and his eyes reflexively went toward the direction that the young woman of earlier had gone. He suddenly recalled her name tag at the hotel...and recalled the strange expression on her face that night. "Ms. Daae? Is that the blonde girl? Erik! What the hell is going on? What are you doing to that girl?"

"Nothing!" he rasped hostilely. "Helping her. Merely being a friend, Nadir. Now leave me. Leave this town. My patience is growing very thin with you. "

Nadir was silent for a moment. There was something different about his friend's voice. Something...almost desperate...defensive. Frankly, he had never heard Erik sound so complimentary to another human being. "Erik?" he said softly. "What are you doing with that girl?"

"I have told you! I am _helping_ her! Now leave!" A danger permeated through the air, and the Iranian knew that it was time to get out of there. He had heard that tone before.

Nadir backed up several feet from the doors. "I don't know what you're doing," he stated, "but I will not leave until I find out."

Another cold laugh. "You have grown braver over the years, friend. I don't know if that's to your benefit, though."

The Iranian turned and made his way down the concrete steps, bracing himself for an attack from behind, even for death. After getting several dozen yards away from the building, Nadir checked over his shoulder and saw that nothing was there. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was one of very few who would have survived that encounter.

Making his way back down toward the bus stop, he relaxed somewhat and began to ponder the conversation. That girl was coming to Erik? Why? It was really beyond belief.

With the mask, Erik was an imposing and mysterious spectacle, and the Iranian couldn't imagine a shy, young woman feeling safe in his presence. Ms. Daae had left the building with an expression of bliss, not of fear.

And without the mask...

Nadir sighed sadly as the next bus pulled up. A blast of warm air hit him as the doors creaked open.

Without the mask, no woman would get near him.

It was simply one of those tragic but undeniable facts.

* * *

"Knock, knock," said Christine softly as she peaked around the door of the hospital room. In her right hand, she carried a ceramic pot of pink and white carnations. The sweet scent of the blossoms blocked out the sterile smell of chemicals. Placing a smile on her face, Christine looked inside. The smile disappeared as soon as she saw the state of her guardian. 

Large, dark circles hung under Mrs. Valerius' eyes, and her wrinkled skin was nearly the color of the starched sheets. Her guardian's cheekbones seemed to protrude more than usual, and there was a dull look in her normally sparkling eyes. "Oh..." Christine couldn't help but quietly gasp.

Mrs. Valerius turned her head and attempted a smile. "Hello, dear! Glad you could come up and visit me today. It gets a little boring around here." Her voice sounded weak and strained.

Christine nodded and set the flowers down upon the counter before turning back to her guardian. "I'm sorry I haven't come up more often. The musical is keeping me busy. I have...a strict vocal instructor. I'll try to visit more, though."

"Don't worry about that! I'm thrilled for you, Christine. I'm so happy you've started singing again. You must have a wonderful instructor to help you so much."

Christine bit her lip and looked down at the linoleum tiles. She felt the sudden need to share the secret with someone, and telling her ailing guardian seemed harmless enough. "He is wonderful," she replied. "Except...I've never seen him before."

"Never seen him? Then how is he teaching you?"

"I hear him," she replied, looking back up. Relief went through her as she saw that her guardian was not looking at her strangely. In fact, Mrs. Valerius was actually smiling kindly and nodding. Encouraged, Christine continued. "He's just a voice. A really beautiful voice! I don't understand it." She shook her head. "Sometimes I think I'm insane."

Mrs. Valerius took Christine's clammy hand and squeezed it. "You're not insane, dear. Maybe someone just cares about you. Maybe you've found a miracle." She smiled. "Whoever he is, he's given you a great gift."

"Yeah," said Christine, holding back several tears as she looked upon the frail woman. "He has. It's been amazing." She paused. " I really wanted you to come to my opening night next week. I've been practicing with the cast. The scenery looks wonderful. But...I know that you can't..."

"No," agreed Mrs. Valerius. "I'm afraid I'm stuck in bed. But I'll be cheering for you from here. And someday I'll hear you. And I'm sure your father will be listening."

Christine nodded, a lonely feeling sweeping over her. "I think I'll visit him sometime soon. It's been a while. It's just...hard to go down there. Maybe after the performance I'll try to make the trip...stay overnight."

"That's a wonderful idea, Christine. Place some fresh flowers on the grave. Though I do worry about you making that drive by yourself. Could you ask someone to go with you?"

"Yeah. Maybe I can get Meg to come along." A silence passed, and she saw that Mrs. Valerius' eyelids were growing heavy with exhaustion. The feeling in the air was the same one she had felt with her father in those terrible weeks. Christine stepped backward. "I guess I'll let you rest now, but I'll try to be back up this week."

"Have a goodnight, Christine. God bless."

* * *

The din of nervous voices filled the air as everyone rehearsed their lines one final time, huddling together in tight circles with their scripts at their sides. Mr. Remy attempted to get their attention before finally giving up and leaning back against the wall with a defeated sigh. Someone in the back complained that the spotlights weren't coming up properly. One girl's dress tore at the hem, leading several members of the costume department to rush to her aid. 

Christine took a deep breath and looked over her lines. She had spent hours upon hours practicing and rehearsing, striving for perfection and ignoring everything else. Vaguely, she was aware that several of her college grades had dropped to C's. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter at that moment. Her hands shook with nervous anticipation, and an expression of worry was plastered upon her face. What if she messed her lines up?

"Don't worry!" called out a professional actress name Tricia Carlson, seeing Christine's furrowed brow. The attractive woman had been on Broadway on several occasions, and much of the audience that night had come to see her play the second-leading female. "You're wonderful, Christine. You sing better than some of the people I've worked with."

Christine smiled at the praise. "Thanks. I hope I do okay."

"Have confidence, honey! You're great!"

"Yeah!" said Trevor, giving her a friendly wave. "You're a heck of a lot better to work with than Charlotte. I think I would have pushed her off the boat." A round of laughter sounded through the room but slowly faded as people remembered Charlotte's present condition.

Christine took deep breaths and attempted to calm her nerves. She had never dreamed that she would get this far. For so long, she had abandoned singing, avoided the pain and memories that came with music. Now, here she was about to perform in a lead role. The world around her seemed foggy and distant, and several times she feared that she would faint from the enormity of it all. Plus her lessons often left her exhausted and dazed.

"You guys! Oh my God!" A redheaded dancer named Celine rushed into the room with wide eyes, breaking Christine out of her trance. Celine's face was pale.

"What is wrong?" asked Mr. Remy, looking up. "Calm down. What's wrong?" Everyone else stopped what they were doing and glanced over curiously.

Celine took a deep breath. "There's a bunch of policemen and paramedics out front. Some guy committed suicide in the theater. He hung himself! They have his body covered in a sheet!"

She was greeted with several gasps. Mr. Remy rushed to the door and looked out. "I'll be right back," he muttered before rushing into the hall.

"That's creepy," said Meg, strolling up beside Christine. "I hope we still have the show."

"Yeah," she replied, tilting her head. "I wonder why anyone would do that in a theater. I wonder who he is."

"You mean who he was," replied Meg.

Mr. Remy reentered several minutes later, shaking his head tiredly. "Show is still on people! They found the body several hours ago, and there's no sign of foul play. Some guy just hung himself on one of the support rafters. God knows how he got up there. Supposedly he's been there for a while, though." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Who was he?" asked Trevor.

"Not sure," replied Mr. Remy. "Best to forget it and concentrate on the show. I'm sure you'll see it on the evening news."

Christine felt a shiver go up her spine as she blankly stared down at her lines and forced the tragedy from her mind. Only a couple of hours remained before the show. She considered asking Trevor if he wanted to rehearse with her one last time but decided against it. Though everyone seemed nice, she still wasn't completely comfortable talking to them.

There was one voice she wanted to hear before she went on, though. She needed it to soothe her nerves. As Christine left the stage area and made her way down the hall, a feeling of peace overtook her. Her lacy 19th century yellow dress swished gently against her legs. She shifted in the somewhat heavy costume, hoping she hadn't ripped any of the seams with her quick pace.

"You look perfect, Christine," were the first words she heard as she entered the room.

She smiled. "Thanks. The dress is kind of uncomfortable, but it is nice." She took in a breath. "I'm so nervous. I just wanted to talk to you one last time."

"There is no reason to be nervous. You are ready. They will all love you."

"Thank you," she replied gratefully. "That means a lot. I really wish Mrs. Valerius could have been here, though. I wanted to sing for her, but she was too sick to make it. I don't know if she's ever coming out of the hospital." She sighed.

"I know you are disappointed, Christine. But I will be watching you the entire time."

"Yeah." Christine smiled. "I'll sing for you. You're the only reason I'm here, anyway."

Christine left the room several minutes later, aglow and with a surreal sort of confidence. She seemed to float through the hallway, distant from all her surroundings.

The first performance was about to begin, and the audience was beginning to filter in.

Among the crowd were two well-dressed brothers...the elder sibling chatting with old acquaintances and the younger suddenly noticing a familiar name on the cast listing; an Iranian, always glancing over his shoulder and keeping an eye on his surroundings; and a mysterious figure in the left balcony, who had somehow managed to keep every seat around him completely empty.


	12. Chapter 12

Here's where the events you're all familiar with begin, though they will be altered somewhat just to keep things interesting. A couple of things, though. I know some of you really dislike Raoul. I feel that the gothic love triangle is what keeps the story interesting, though, and Raoul is going to be treated fairly in this.

**Read and Review! **

He spotted her name at the top of the playbill just as an announcement was made at the microphone.

"As you've probably heard, the part of Magnolia will now be performed by Ms. Christine Daae," stated a tall, bearded man upon the stage, attempting to break through the steady chattering of the audience. "We wish Charlotte Gregory a very fast recovery but hope that you enjoy tonight's show. The performance will begin in about five minutes. Thank you for your time and generous donations."

Raoul glanced up in surprise and turned to his older brother. "Hey Phillip! It's Christine. Remember? When we came up here for the summer years ago? It has to be her."

Phillip turned from his previous conversation with an annoyed expression. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I thought the name sounded familiar. She was that scrawny blonde girl, right?" He laughed. "You two used to get into a hell of a lot of trouble together."

"Yeah! We had some good times as kids. I can't believe she's here. Maybe I can find her after the show." He leaned back into the plush seat, feeling slightly more relaxed in the formal atmosphere. The people in that seating section were all lavishly dressed, eager to display their designer suits and expensive jewelry even at the charity event. Talk of lucrative business deals, month-long vacations in sunny Florida, and late night dinner parties floated from all directions.

Phillip chuckled. "Let's see what she looks like first! Hopefully she's grown up a little."

Raoul started to come back with a snide response to the comment but was interrupted by a loud voice from behind them. "Hey! Phillip Chagny!" yelled out an overly-dressed older man. "How's life treating you?"

Phillip rolled his eyes and mumbled. "I really hate that guy." He turned around and faked a smile."Everything's good, Mr. Robertson. How are you doing?"

"Pretty good. Pretty good." He leaned in. " You think you could share some stock tips with your old friend? Tell me whether the merger is going through next week?"

Raoul shook his head, glad he had kept his distance from his father's business. Phillip gritted his teeth. "You know I can't do that, Mr. Robertson! Not exactly legal!"

"Hundred bucks says you can!" The heavyset man laughed loudly and waved a green bill in the air. The people around them discreetly leaned in to listen, just in case Phillip did share some profitable knowledge.

Phillip shook his head in irritation and turned his back to the older man, leaving Mr. Robertson to mutter about lousy connections as he took a seat. Adjusting his tie and collar, Phillip leaned back and sighed. "It would be nice to get away from work once in a while. Some of these people, I swear..." He looked around. "Good seats, though. Front and center."

At that moment, the lights dimmed to near darkness and the orchestra began to play a lighthearted tune. The red curtain parted, revealing the wooden deck of a ship and a dazzling, blue background painted to look like a riverside. As Tricia Carlson walked on in a lavender dress to play Judy, the audience began to applaud. The first real song, _Cap'n Andy's Calliope_ , began.

"When's your friend singing?" Phillip quietly enquired, holding back a yawn.

"After a couple more songs," replied Raoul without even having to look down.

Indeed, Magnolia was revealed several show tunes later. The young woman appeared on stage in an elaborate yellow dress that nearly matched her soft blonde hair. In one gloved hand, she carried an ornate folded umbrella. A dreamy smile lay upon her angular face, and her pale skin was illuminated by the stage lamps. Although undeniably lovely, Ms. Christine Daae also possessed an almost ghostly look.

"That's her!" whispered Raoul, leaning forward.

"Wow," said his brother with a smirk. "She has grown up! Still as thin as ever." He listened to her sing her duet with Tricia for a moment. "She has got a voice on her, though. Almost sounds professional!"

"Yeah," agreed Raoul. "She sounds great. I've got to get back in touch with her."

"Worth a shot," muttered Phillip, releasing a yawn as he stretched his legs out. He looked around the crowded room. "I wonder where Sorelli is."

The musical continued with its fast-paced and cheerful beginning, and then moved on to its more somber middle and end. Some of the more famous solos such as _Ol' Man River_ earned loud rounds of applause, as well as the more difficult dance steps.

The big surprise that night, though, was Christine Daae, stunning the audience with her perfectly pitched voice. She sounded as though she had just walked off of Broadway, and many people checked their playbills twice to make sure she wasn't one of the guest actresses from New York. No one had ever heard of her before, not even the students at the local college.

"Jesus," said Phillip as the show began to wrap up. "That girl should get a contract. She could make some real money with a voice like that."

"Yeah," replied Raoul, eyes still glued to the stage. Christine was finishing her last duet with her lover, continuing to captivate the audience. "I still can't believe it's her."

The show concluded and was met with an uproar of applause as each of the actors and actresses came out for their bows. The crowd stood as Christine unsteadily walked up to the stage. She seemed to teeter slightly, and her eyes appeared lost in the bright lights. Plastering a smile upon her pallid face, she looked blankly around the audience as she took her bow.

"She looks kind of sick up there," whispered Phillip. "Hope she doesn't fall over. Sorelli did that once during a performance."

Christine steadied herself, though, and stepped backward and in line with the rest of the cast. As the last actors took their bows, the curtains closed. Raoul quickly stood with the rest of the audience and focused his concentration on getting to the stage.

"Hey there, baby!" He heard Sorelli's high-pitched voice come from behind him. "Great show, huh?"

Phillip turned and embraced her. "Hey! I was looking for you!"

Raoul left Phillip and walked off toward the aisle, attempting to push his way through the people heading in the opposite direction. Sorelli would keep his brother busy for at least a good hour. The girl could talk forever about the smallest things.

Finally getting through the crowd, he fought his way to a back corridor. At first he only saw a large group of people carrying scenery back into storage. The actors and actresses had already left for the dressing rooms or home.

He sighed and looked around, wondering if there was any way to look Christine up. It would be useless trying to find her in all of this chaos, and she was probably tired that night, anyway.

"Christine!" A worried voice shouted through the nearly-vacant corridor.

He whirled around to see a brunette girl with a frightened look on her face. Next to her was Christine, still in costume as she leaned against the wall in near exhaustion. Her face was white, and her eyes were dazed.

Just as Raoul rushed over to her, she lost her footing and slumped to a heap on the floor.

* * *

"Christine?" 

She gazed up into several faces and blinked as they blurred in and out of focus. There was an older guy she recognized as one of the technical assistants, asking her if she was okay. Meg was crouched down beside her, her brown eyes wide with concern. To her right was an attractive blond young man that looked strangely familiar. Christine winced as she turned her head, feeling a throbbing in the back of her skull.

"Are you okay, Ma'am?" asked the technical assistant. "Want me to call an ambulance or something?"

"No," she quietly replied, propping herself up against the wall. "I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy."

"You're so pale," commented Meg, gazing down. "I thought you were going to faint on the stage."

"At least I made it off," Christine replied with a tired smile. She turned back to the two guys, closely eyeing the younger one again. "But I'm okay now." She blinked once to stop the room from spinning.

"Okay," said the technical assistant. "But be sure to get help if you need it. I've got to get some of these wires back into storage." He quickly walked away. Other people were beginning to stare at the scene now, some coming over and asking if they could be of help.

"Here," said Meg to Christine. "Let's get into one of these rooms. Maybe you can sit down and rest for a minute." She turned to the others gathering around. "Everything's fine. She just needs some time to relax. She'll be out in a moment." Meg helped her tired friend up from the ground, watching as the unfamiliar guy opened a room for them to escape in to. "It's okay now," said Meg. "You can go if you want."

"No," he quickly replied. "It's fine. I'm...actually here to see her." He helped Meg get Christine into some type of lounge where they sat her down in a velvet armchair. "Here. Let me get her a drink of water." He rushed off into the hallway.

"You scared me to death!" exclaimed Meg, kneeling beside her dazed friend. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe I should get my mom."

"I...I'm fine. I just got so hot and dizzy upon stage. The lights were too bright!" She brushed her tangled hair away from her sweating brow and looked around. The room swayed a bit before finally coming into focus, and a feeling of nausea still lingered in the pit of her stomach. She turned her head as the familiar guy came back with a paper cup of water.

"So... you two know each other?" asked Meg, looking at him with curiosity and a little envy.

"I..." As Christine glanced back up, a feeling of recognition finally overtook her. "Raoul!" she exclaimed. "Oh my gosh! How are you? I haven't seen you forever!"

"Hey! You recognized me!" He smiled and handed her the cup of water. She gratefully drank, feeling her dizziness subside somewhat as the cold liquid went down her throat.

"Thanks." Christine rubbed the back of her head, noticing a little bump where she had fallen back against the wall. She looked back up into her old friend's eyes. "What are you doing all the way up here? You're in...New York City now, right?"

"Right! Phillip wanted to come up here for the charity benefit since dad went to school here. Plus his girlfriend goes to the university. I thought I'd come with him and get out of the city for a while."

Meg stood there grinning. "Oh yeah! Christine said she was friends with Phillip Chagny's brother." Christine blushed.

"Yeah!" he replied. "We had some good times during the summer when we were kids!"

Christine laughed, relaxing back into the chair. "We really did. I loved going down to the lake. Your brother was always yelling at us for getting into the muddy water."

"Yeah! But we went in anyway." He took a seat nearby. "Hey! I haven't even congratulated you on tonight! You were great up there! I didn't know you were still singing. "

Christine smiled, realizing she didn't even remember much of the performance. It was now just a jumble of lights and noise, though she did recall the wonderful sound of applause. She also remembered a warm feeling of being loved by everyone. "Thanks, Raoul. It's all happened kind of fast, actually. But thanks!"

It was at that moment that she felt a strange tension building inside of the room. Christine suddenly knew without a doubt that she was being watched, which didn't really surprise her. There was something hostile about this sensation, though. Her stomach suddenly felt knotted.

"You guys should really catch up!" exclaimed Meg. "I'm Meg Giry, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Meg!" He turned back to Christine. "We should catch up. Phillip and I will be here for a while longer. Maybe tomorrow we could get together for dinner or something! Seems like a nice town!"

Christine dazedly nodded, feeling the sudden need to be alone. "Um...yeah," she replied with a swallow. "Things are a little busy, but I'm sure we can get together. I could ...give you my phone number."

"Sounds good!"

"I..." She sighed and looked around aimlessly. "I don't have a pen with me right now, but I..." She was growing very nervous, though she didn't know what she was afraid of. It was just a random feeling.

Raoul looked at her oddly, noticing her agitation. "Okay. Well...I'll look you up in the phonebook, then." He paused and stared at her pale features. "Are you okay? Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Fine. Um...you can find my number under Mrs. Valerius' name." She instinctively looked to the ceiling. "I kind of need a minute to myself right now. Just to rest."

"Okay," he replied, slightly taken aback. "I guess I'd better get out of here and find Phillip, anyway. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," chimed in Meg. "You're really flushed! Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine!" she snapped back. "I just need a moment."

"All right. All right," said Meg, obviously hurt. "I guess I'd better find my mom. I'll meet with you later out front." She quickly walked out of the room, leaving the two old friends to themselves.

Raoul gave Christine a tentative hug, and she lightly embraced him back. His warm arms and the mild scent of his cologne calmed her nerves some. Releasing her, he stood up. "I'll call you, then, Christine. It was great seeing you again."

"It was nice to see you, too," she wearily replied. "See you later."

After Raoul had left, she unsteadily rose to her feet and shut the door of the lounge with a loud click. Very few people were outside, and she was vaguely aware that there was an opening night party for the cast and crew. At that moment, though, she felt no desire to be around a large group of people.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around, still not knowing what to expect. For a moment, there was nothing but an eerie silence. Christine sat down in the chair to try and rest, realizing that the performance had taken a lot out of her. The back of her head still continued to pound.

The silence was suddenly broken.

"_Who_ was _that_?"


	13. Chapter 13

Hey everyone. I'm glad the last chapter was popular, especially considering that it mostly featured Raoul. This chapter is a bit transitional, but I am looking forward to writing the next one. Finally, thank you for all your comments. Some of them made me laugh, and all of them encouraged me to continue.

**Please Read and Review!**

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, sending several icy chills down the spine of her back. Christine shivered. Her instructor had reprimanded her before. He had even yelled at her on several occasions. Never, though, had she heard the voice sound so angry. So much hate was filled in that one question: _Who was that?_

She gazed around the room, finally settling her eyes on the wood carvings in the tabletop. It seemed too dangerous to look up at the ceiling. "I..." she stuttered dumbly. "Meg?"

"No," the voice hissed back. "The other one."

"Oh! Raoul?" she choked out. "Just a friend I had growing up. We used to see each other during the summers." She didn't understand what was wrong. What had she done to upset him?

"A friend? That's all?" it questioned, now taking on an eerie calmness. "He likes you, Christine. I imagine he wants more. He will distract you."

"No! We're just friends. He just wants to visit with me. It's been such a long time since we've seen each other." Christine looked to the empty ceiling to plead her case, still not understanding the fury in the room. She longed to hear that soft, pleasing tone again...not this sharp, cold one that seemed to sting her ears.

"I don't want you to see him outside of this building," her instructor commanded. "You have to focus during these next weeks, Christine. Nothing should be on your mind but your singing. I don't want him interfering with what _we_ have accomplished."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "But we'll just get together for a few hours! I promise I won't..."

"No!" it boomed. "Either you devote yourself completely, or I will leave. You will have to perform without my help. Do I make myself clear?"

Christine gripped on to the armrest, digging her nails into the soft material. Panic gripped her heart at the thought of never hearing the voice again. She knew she couldn't sing without him. Once Mrs. Valerious was gone, there would be no one left. She would be alone. "No! Please don't go. I can't do all of this without you." She shook her head rapidly and swallowed. "I won't see him. I'll tell him I'm busy."

"Do you promise this to me?"

"Yes!" She nodded to emphasize her sincerity. "I promise I won't see him. He's just a friend from a long time ago. I promise!"

"I'm glad you understand, Christine." The voice became soothing again, like a lullaby. "It's only for your own good. You don't want anyone destroying your future." It paused. "Did you like that feeling of being upon the stage? Of having everyone love you?"

"Yes." She smiled, and her blue eyes glazed over. "I loved it. I'd never felt anything like it."

"You did wonderfully tonight. Better than I could have imagined. You should be pleased with yourself. Many more nights like this one await for you."

The melodious praise caused her to brush all concerns from her mind. She beamed on the inside and out. "Thank you! I couldn't have done it without your help. It was amazing. Except...when I got so tired at the end. I didn't mean to faint."

"You will become stronger with time. A small dizzy spell is normal in the beginning."

"I see."

A long silence followed. Christine shifted in her heavy costume, feeling herself grow even more exhausted after the confrontation. Although she wanted to hear more of her instructor's voice, her body also longed to collapse into a warm bed. The night was taking its toll on her.

"Look on the shelf behind you," the voice finally said. "The middle one."

She quickly stood up and did as she was told. Her eyes grazed over several boxes of tissues before finally spotting a faint glimmer in the fluorescent lighting. Reaching down with a slender hand, Christine picked up a silver necklace chain from the shelf. Looped onto it was a smooth and shiny black pennant. She ran her thumb over the cool surface of the jewel with a sense of wonder.

"It is onyx," the voice stated. "From India."

"It's very beautiful," she said, still gazing down. "Is it from you?"

"It is."

"Thank you," she murmured, clutching the cold gem inside her hand. Only for a second did she wonder how a voice could give a gift.

"You're welcome, Christine." The voice sounded pleased, and the hostility from earlier had vanished. "I will see you for a lesson tomorrow evening."

Her attention left the jewel and focused back on the ceiling. She tensed, almost unable to make her statement. "I...I need to tell you something. I'm going somewhere tomorrow night." Christine paused. Hearing no response, she quickly continued. "There's no performance for a couple of days, so I thought it would be okay."

"And where are you going?"

She hesitated. "My...my father is buried down near Albany. It's...been a while since I visited the cemetery. I was going to leave tomorrow evening and stay overnight."

"Alone?"

"Yes," she replied. "The drive isn't that bad. And my friend, Meg, couldn't come..." Christine waited, praying he wouldn't be angered by the request.

"Fine, Christine," came a hesitant reply. "But you're not going alone. I will see that someone picks you up at your house and takes you."

"Oh! That's okay," she protested. "I'll be fine. The drive's not that bad."

"No. A chauffeur will take you and bring you home." There was no room for compromise.

She shifted but nodded. "All right. Thank you. I guess the roads can be kind of bad this time of year. Should I...should I pay someone for the ride or...?"

"I will take care of everything as I always do."

Christine brushed her hair from her face, only now noticing how quiet the halls outside had become. Everyone was likely gone. "Okay," she said softly, still clasping the necklace. "I'll be back in a couple of days. Thank you again. For everything."

No response came. After murmuring a goodbye, she exited the room, picking up her pace as she flew through the corridors. She had considered getting out of her costume first, but the vacant building was beginning to give her a creepy feeling. After Christine walked into the freezing air, she gazed down at the necklace for a moment, watching as the onyx stone glittered in the dim light. After a second's hesitation, she undid the clasp and placed the heavy piece of jewelry around her neck.

In the reflection of the glass door, she could barely see the dark jewel's contrast against her yellow costume. It looked a bit out of place, though the necklace itself was still beautiful.

Feeling her head ache with fatigue, Christine turned and made her way down the steps, the events of the night blurring together within her mind.

* * *

Nadir turned over on the broken mattress, hearing the springs groan under his weight. From the night stand, his cell phone rang out into the darkness, playing a fast version of _Moonlight Sonata_. He cursed and opened his eyes before fumbling around in the dark to grab it. As his eyes fell on the red digits of the alarm clock, a look of disgust crossed his face. _Who the hell was calling at four in the morning? _

Finally, he picked up the phone and attempted to push "send." "Hello?" he mumbled out, feeling the night's sleep sill lingering in his throat.

"Hello. Mr. Nadir Khan?" questioned a gruff voice.

"This is he."

"I'm calling to you from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's field office in Boston. I can't get into all of this over the phone, but there's some information down here for you to pick up. Some files reserved for you."

Nadir was suddenly wide awake. "What? Files? From who?"

"I'd rather discuss this later with you, Mr. Khan. The fact is that a recently deceased agent seemed to want you to have them. Your name is on them." Some papers rustled in the background, and the Iranian could hear several other voices speaking.

"Mr. Buquet?" Nadir asked with a swallow. "Was that the agent?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed. "All right, then. I'm sorry about that tragedy by the way. Do I...just come and pick them up? Do I need some kind of clearance?"

There was a brief hesitation. "Mr. Khan. You and I both know what we're dealing with here. And I imagine you know a hell of a lot more than I do. Come by this afternoon. Then we can go into specifics."

The Iranian shifted nervously. "All right...sir. Can I get a name?"

"Darius Weiss. I'll be at the front."

"Thank you," he replied, scribbling it down onto a notepad.

"Thanks." Mr. Weiss hung up quickly, leaving Nadir listening to a dead dial tone for a moment. Gently placing the cell phone down, he flicked on the dusty bedside light. He scratched his chin several times and stared at the jagged holes in the old carpeting.

So there were people who knew things? Nadir wondered just how much they knew. Did they know of the entire history? Even he didn't know Erik's complete history. The most Nadir knew about Erik's childhood was that he'd resided in an orphanage somewhere in Eastern Europe for a number of years. At some point, he must have gotten an education. Even a genius couldn't come about that much knowledge without some sort of training.

Nadir's real area of expertise lay in Erik's activities in Iran during the late 80's and early 90's. He wondered how much the American government knew about that. Probably not much. Otherwise, the Feds would have searched the whole country from top to bottom by now.

He also knew that Erik had lived in Europe for a number of years, having his fun with the chaos of the Soviet collapse before keeping a low profile in France. After French authorities became aware of the threat within their country, they began to investigate. Although Nadir wasn't sure what had followed, he guessed that Erik had found his way into the United States.

Now, the only question was whether anything _else_ had found its way into the U.S. with Erik. Judging by Ms. Charlotte Gregory's current condition, it had.

As the Iranian got up and put on a bathrobe, his mind wandered back to the most recent occurrences. What was Erik doing with that young girl? There was no explanation. How could she be of any benefit to him? Nadir had even checked to see if she was wealthy, wondering if Erik was after some type of ransom. Christine Daae was right above the poverty line, though.

Was it possible that Erik really did have affections for the girl?

Nadir smirked at this thought for a moment. The invincible masked man in love?

His smile quickly faded as a new realization hit him. He had seen men do crazy and desperate things in the name of love. God knew what Erik would do, especially when he realized that the love would be unrequited.

His mind full of new troubling thoughts, Nadir gave up all notions of going back to sleep.

Maybe there was a café open somewhere.

* * *

Raoul Chagny lugged out the heavy yellow telephone book from its place under the hotel night stand and dropped it onto the bed with a soft thud. Before opening it, he checked the illuminated numbers on the alarm clock. It was just a little after nine in the morning, not too early to call. 

As he searched the "V" section of the White Pages with his index finger, he went over his encounter with Christine from the night before. Although everything appeared normal, he couldn't shake the feeling that something hadn't been right about the situation. She had looked exhausted after the performance, both pale and sickly. She had always been somewhat withdrawn when they were kids, but he had never seen her so edgy and dazed.

He finally spotted a Hazel Valerious among the thousands of other names. Picking up his cellular phone from its place by the television, he quickly punched in the number. All was completely silent as he dialed, save for the quiet hum of the heater and the occasional sound of footsteps on the floor above. After pressing "enter," he heard the phone began to ring on the other end.

By the fourth ring, Raoul started to hang up, wondering if Christine still had morning rehearsals even with performances going on. With a click, though, the ringing ceased and a tired female voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hello. Christine?" he questioned unsurely.

"This is she."

"Hey! It's Raoul. Sorry if it's kind of early. How are you feeling?"

There was a very long hesitation before he received a reply. "I'm fine, Raoul. How are you?"

"I'm good! Mostly hanging around at the hotel while Phillip goes out with Sorelli. Hopefully I can get the car for a little while, though. Would you want to get together some time this evening?"

Another unnerving silence followed. Raoul got up and walked to the window. The sky was a dark shade of gray, and a winter wind shook the bare branches of the oak trees in the front on the hotel. Several flurries dusted past the glass. "I'm sorry," she finally answered. He thought he heard a slight quiver in her voice. "I'm kind of busy. It's...it's just not a good time with school and the musical. And...this evening I'm going to visit my dad...down in Albany."

"Oh," he replied, brushing away his disappointment. "Are you going alone? I wouldn't mind taking you. I felt bad that I didn't hear about the funeral in time to go. He was a good man."

"Yeah. He was." Her voice became distant for a moment. "Anyway, someone's already taking me. It's kind of far, and I wouldn't want you to make the drive on your own."

"Where is it?"

"Northern Albany. Our Lady of Angels Cemetery. But...the weather is bad. You shouldn't make the drive."

Raoul paused, not quite able to tell if she wanted him to come or not. There was a strange tone in her voice that he couldn't decipher. "Maybe we can get together when you get back then. Or...when's a good time for you?"

"I...I'm just too busy," she replied in a rush. "I'm sorry. I can't meet with you at all during these next weeks. It's just a really bad time."

He was silent for a moment, turning away from the window and taking a seat on the bed. "All right, Christine," he replied, unable to mask his slight resentment. "If you're busy, I guess...I'll see you at the show. Maybe we can talk then."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Are you ...okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired."

"Then I guess I'll...talk to you later." He waited during another strange period of silence, wondering if she wanted to tell him something...offer an explanation.

"Bye," she said softly.

The reception on the other end clicked off and the dial tone sounded. He slowly switched off the phone and laid it on the bed stand before walking back to the window with a sigh of disappointment.

Had he done something to upset her? He tried to think back a ways, but nothing came to mind. The last time he had seen her had been years ago at the lake, when she had been ten and he had been twelve. As they parted for the final time at the end of summer, Christine had kissed his cheek under the sunset and told him that she would see him soon. And that had been it.

What had happened?

From behind him, the door to the room suddenly creaked open. Raoul quickly turned to see Phillip peaking his head in from the hallway. "Hey! I'm running out to the store for some batteries! Want to ride along?"

"No thanks. Think I'll stay here."

Phillip shrugged. "Okay. Everything all right? You look damn depressed."

"Yeah. I'm fine." He hesitated a moment. "Hey Phillip. I need the car this evening."

Phillip grinned. "Did you get a date with that girl?"

"Uh...something like that. Mind if I take it?"

"Yeah. Why not? I need to get some work done back in the room anyway. Just don't bang it up in the weather."

"Yeah. I won't. Thanks."

After Phillip had left, he checked the window one last time before sitting back on the bed and flipping on the television. Most of the local channels were carrying the news. Noticing that the stations were all showing the same photograph of a man, he stopped on one to listen to the grave voice of an anchorman.

"All signs in the death of Mr. Buquet point to suicide, though no note has been found so far. Although his friends and family claim that he had no motive for ending his life, police have found no evidence of foul play. Private funeral services will take place next Monday."

After a moment, Raoul turned the channel to a local weather report.

It looked like snow for Albany.


	14. Chapter 14

Hey guys! First, a clarification. Sorry if the thing with Buquet became confusing. That was his body hanging in the theater, similar to how it was found in the book. Yes, it had been there for some time and was likely not in the best state. Because of the cold temperatures, though, the decay was probably not quite as extensive. Anyway...sorry if things weren't clear.

I really hope everyone likes this chapter! I had fun writing it!

**Please read and review! **

Christine stared at herself in the dust-coated dresser mirror of her bedroom, gazing at the two shadowed eyes that looked out from her pallid face. An oversized midnight blue sweater hung upon her thin frame, and her legs were lost in a pair of loose black dress pants. Around her neck lay the onyx pennant, glinting off the dim light in the apartment.

Pushing her wavy blonde hair out of her face, she looked at herself a moment longer. A slightly faded photograph from about two years ago was tucked into the top right corner of the mirror. She and Meg were smiling in front of an ice-skating rink, snowflakes dusting their hair and cheeks pink from the cold. As Christine glanced between the photograph and her reflection, she realized how different she now appeared...older.

In the solitude of her tiny bedroom, she allowed her mind to wander over the last few months. Everything was a foggy swirl of uncertain memories and daydreams. And in the middle of all the colorful chaos was her instructor. The Voice.

Who was he? A ghost? An angel? Just...an anonymous person? Sometimes she still worried that he was a figment of her imagination, and that scared her the most. Christine needed him to be real. She needed to know that someone was always with her...was watching out for her. If she were ever to fall out of this cloud of bliss, nothing would be left except loneliness. Christine feared this dark emptiness enough to not question the voice's existence. And she feared it enough not to question the voice's motives...even if she had wanted to spend a little time with her childhood friend.

She had enjoyed seeing Raoul again. His face brought back memories of times long ago, and his warm demeanor gave her a feeling of comfort that she hadn't felt for some time. Christine had felt guilty telling him that she wasn't able to see him, almost asking him to meet her at the cemetery. She didn't want to displease the voice, though. Raoul would just have to understand that things had changed.

After adjusting the high collar of her sweater, she stepped out of the bedroom and gave the apartment one last lookover. With dismay, she saw that the cracks in the ceiling were slowly growing longer, allowing the cold air to seep in. They would have to be taken care of when she got back. At least the overnight visit would allow her to escape from everything for a while.

Suddenly hearing the low hum of an engine outside, Christine quickly walked to the front window and peaked through the blinds. The afternoon sky was dark and overcast, and a light wind was throwing dead leaves and litter around the street. Her eyes finally focused on a strange black car sitting directly in front of her complex. Although too short to be a limousine, the silver-trimmed vehicle was also longer and probably more expensive than anything she had ever ridden in. Christine waited for someone to come out, but the four doors remained closed.

She shifted and bit her lip, knowing that it was likely her ride. Expensive automobiles didn't just park out on the street in her neighborhood. Closing the blinds, Christine began to quickly gather up her overnight duffel bag and purse. Although she doubted the driver expected her to come outside in a rush, there was something unnerving about the car just idling outside of her apartment. After flipping off all the lights, she slung her belongings over her shoulder, locked the deadbolt, and made her way into the cold afternoon air.

As she approached the black car, Christine wondered if someone would get out and help her with the door. To her surprise, the back right door swung open automatically. She paused for a moment, slightly unnerved by the lack of a person. With a swallow, she finally climbed into the backseat and looked around. What if this wasn't her ride after all?

The first thing she noticed was that an opaque glass panel separated her from the front seat. She was confined to a dim interior, able to see nothing of the driver or the front windows. "Um..." she began, not knowing if the driver could even hear her. "It's Our Lady of Angels Cemetery. In northern Albany. I...I can give you directions."

She received no reply, falling back into the seat as the car shifted gears and began to drive forward. For a moment, her stomach tightened with worry. "Hello?" she asked again. The vehicle then swerved onto a southbound interstate, and she realized with relief that it was heading in the right direction. Perhaps the driver did know the way. Her instructor _was_ thorough about such things.

Had she told her instructor where her father was buried? She didn't even remember.

Looking out her tinted windows, Christine noticed that the snow was becoming heavier as it fell from the darkening sky. The spacious red seats in the back were soft to the touch...almost velvety, and the warmth from the heaters encased her in comfort. Over the speakers came light classical music...perhaps Mozart or Chopin. The cozy interior, soft piano, and steady forward motion soon caused her to lay back against the headrest. A feeling of calmness overtook her.

Minutes later, as Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ began to play in the background, Christine settled into a deep and peaceful doze.

* * *

Taking a gloved hand off the steering wheel of the silver BMW, Raoul reached over and turned up the heater before flipping on the radio. Browsing through several stations, he finally settled on light rock and turned up the volume to keep himself awake. After several hours of driving, the darkening sky and blowing heat were beginning to make him feel drowsy. 

A blue road sign gave notice of several gas stations up ahead, and he wondered if he should pull over and grab a cup of coffee. After seeing that his exit into Albany was coming up, Raoul decided against it, wanting to reach his destination before the roads became caked in snow and ice. His tires were already beginning to lose friction.

After turning off the exit, he pulled over to a rest area to check his directions and look over a city map. The cemetery wasn't too far off, but he also needed to grab a hotel room before they filled up with holiday travelers. He didn't even know what Christine's plans were, and Raoul suddenly wondered if he should have told her he was meeting her there. Although Christine had weakly protested his driving to Albany, an eagerness had also been present in her voice, as if she had secretly wanted him to come. With the hope of seeing her again, Raoul made the decision to drive through the dangerous weather.

As the flakes of snow continued to float down, he took another look at the map and decided to give the cemetery a quick lookover. She would be there sometime that evening, and he didn't want to miss her. With a sigh, Raoul backed out of the lot and turned onto the road, making his way over the slick streets with both hands on the steering wheel.

A long row of iron gates and an array of crosses signaled that he had reached his destination. Lines of headstones peaked up from the sodden ground, many with dead and wilted flowers. No other vehicles were out front. Raoul parked the car but left the engine running, deciding to wait until it became dark. The radio was company enough.

After about ten minutes, a long black car pulled up further down the street. He closely watched it from his rearview mirror, his eyes widening as his friend suddenly stepped out through the back door alone. Placing her purse around her shoulder, Christine began to walk forward and through the gates, her long blonde hair waving behind her in the wind as her heels crunched through the snow. She wore a large jewel of some kind around her neck, and Raoul couldn't help feel that it looked too big for her small frame.

Switching off the engine, Raoul opened the door and stepped out into a rush of cold air. It was growing darker by the moment, and he could just barely make out the figure of Christine trudging forward. "Christine!" he called softly, only to have his voice quickly carried off by the wind. As he walked through the metal gates, he swore that he heard a car door close. Looking backward, he saw nothing but endless swirls of snow and the silhouettes of bare trees. After breathing into his hands, he moved forward again, beginning to feel a gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

"Christine!" he called again, no longer able to see her. Raoul muttered a curse, realizing that he had no idea where the grave actually was. He stumbled over an old headstone that was poking up from the earth and stuck out his arms to steady himself. The cold wind continued to sting his face. "Christine!"

He looked around hopelessly in the darkness for a moment, wondering if he could even find his way back to the car. It really wasn't safe for anyone to be out in this, though, especially not Christine. With a heavy sigh, he blindly continued forward.

To his left, a dark figure suddenly loomed up from the snow, and he wondered if he had stumbled upon a statue of some type. Squinting, he reached out a hand to touch it, nearly falling forward as the figure vanished into nothingness.

"What the heck?" Raoul muttered to himself, wondering if his tired eyes were playing tricks on him.

_Over here..._

The wind seemed to whisper to him from all sides. Looking, he saw that the same dark figure had now gone to his right. Raoul froze, feeling his heart throb inside of his chest. After a second, he walked toward it again and attempted to grab it. The shadow was gone in an instant, leaving him to clutch nothing but empty air.

_Faster..._

"Who's there!" he called out, whirling around. "Who are you?"

A low chuckle greeted him.

"Who's there?" He took several steps backward, trying to get a clear view. The swirls of snowflakes were disorienting. Hearing nothing else, Raoul started to continue forward again.

_Too slow..._

As Raoul opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly began to choke. A burning sensation engulfed his face and lungs, gagging him mercilessly with each inhalation. Fire was in his mouth and nose, and he gasped for a breath of cold air to soothe the pain. It felt as though a torrent of hot cinders were being blown into his face. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't scream.

Falling to the ground, Raoul desperately attempted to crawl away from the invisible fire, relieved as the icy air below entered his lungs. The wind was replenishing, blowing away the hidden torture in the opposite direction.

Exhausted and out of breath, the young man laid his head to the freezing earth, finding the snow to be soothing to his face. He gazed up, at first seeing nothing but the gray sky and falling flakes. A low chuckle continued to echo around him.

As he drifted off into a cold sleep, Raoul suddenly wondered if he was dying.

The face of death itself was grinning down at him from above.

* * *

_Christine!_

She turned and glanced over her shoulder. Had someone just called her name? The blowing snow blurred her vision, making it impossible to see anything behind her. With a shrug, Christine hugged her arms against herself for warmth and continued walking forward. She knew the location of the simple headstone by heart, right next to a tall, ancient oak tree.

The snow was getting worse, and she had wondered if she should visit her father after the storm had passed. The black car had driven forward, though, and Christine had decided not to protest. Tonight was the night to see her father, no matter how bad the weather became.

As she knelt down next to the rectangular headstone, a single tear ran down her cheek and mingled with the melted snow. Reaching out a gloved finger, she traced over the engraved letters.

_Charles Daae_

March 10, 1960 to November 14, 2000

_Now among the angels_

Withdrawing her hand, Christine suddenly looked up, and a small smile crossed her face. "You're here, aren't you?" she softly enquired into the cold night, no longer aware of the flakes dusting her cheeks and nose.

"I am," floated her instructor's voice from the heavens.

Christine wasn't surprised. Perhaps she had known all along that he would be there. Perhaps that was why she had not invited Raoul to meet her.

"I miss him," she murmured, staring at the ground. "I miss him so much."

"I know, Christine. He is always with you, though. Just as I will always be."

She closed her eyes, allowing the wind to swirl around her and becoming aware of something standing above her. A shadow blocked out the little light that was left. Christine didn't dare move, fearing she would scare it away. "Who are you?" she whispered, keeping her eyes firmly shut.

"Time will tell such things."

"But I want to see you."

"Not yet. Perhaps never."

Something was suddenly stroking her hair, a sensation only slightly stronger than the wind. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew that he was now close enough to see. Close enough to touch!

As she shakily raised a gloved hand, though, the sensation faded and the shadow disappeared. Christine sighed softly and opened her eyes to see nothing but the dreary headstone. "Please let me see you."

"Pay your respects, Christine. Then you must go before the snow makes it impossible."

She reluctantly nodded, closing her eyes again and saying a prayer for her father and for herself. Looking back up, she suddenly noticed a large bouquet of flowers laying beside here knees and flaked with white dust. "Oh," she quietly gasped, looking among the carnations, roses, irises, and other colorful blossoms. "Thank you. I wanted to bring flowers, but...they won't last long in the snow." Christine picked up the bouquet and stared at it wondrously. "Thank you," she softly repeated.

"You can do as you like with them."

She hesitated a moment, before picking a single rose out of the mixture and setting the rest against the headstone. Clutching the onyx gem with one hand and the rose stem with the other, she got up from the ground and dusted her knees off. Although she wasn't sure if she could find her way back to the car, she was not worried about getting lost. _He_ was still with her.

Lost in her thoughts, she moved forward through the white paradise, stumbling over the mounds of snow.

It was only when she saw something stir below her that she was broken from her warm trance. Someone was lying amongst the headstones, breathing heavily and barely moving.

She cautiously walked over to the shivering figure that lay upon the ground, able to now see a familiar head of blond hair. As she knelt down with a gasp, Christine swore she heard a low-throated growl over the howling of the wind.


	15. Chapter 15

I'm so happy everyone enjoyed the last chapter. This next one is a bit transitional, but chapter 16 will start the excitement that you're all waiting for. I have most of the story planned out now and am already excited about the finale.

No Erik appearances in this chapter, but he's still quite there. As always, I enjoy your feedback. It keeps me writing when I should be doing homework. :)

**Please Read and Review!**

For one horrifying moment, Christine thought that the blue eyes staring up at her were empty and lifeless. She shakily knelt down to the snow-covered earth, a feeling of relief surging through her as the eyes suddenly blinked. "Raoul?" she choked out, reaching out a hand to touch is cold cheek. "Oh God! What happened? What are you doing here?"

"Christine," he murmured, attempting to raise his head. "I thought...it...something was out here." Raoul looked around the dark cemetery for a moment, obviously disoriented. He then reached up and rubbed his face as if something were nipping at it.

"But what are you doing here?" she questioned. Christine could sense _him_ watching...feel his displeasure and anger at her encounter. Still, she couldn't just leave her old friend lying on the frigid ground in a graveyard.

"I came to see you," Raoul said softly, clasping onto her hand. "I...thought maybe you wanted some company out here." He looked around again. "Something attacked me. God, my mouth is still burning from it."

"Attacked you?" She sighed and bit her lip. "You shouldn't even be here, Raoul. Do you need to go to a hospital? You're ice cold."

"Huh?" he asked, taken aback by her abruptness. "No. I'm fine now. But you shouldn't be out here either. I thought you said someone was coming with you."

"Someone is with me," Christine replied after a moment. She shook her head and quickly withdrew her hand from his. With every passing second, her instructor's fury grew. "Look, Raoul. I need to go now. Are you sure you're okay? I could call an ambulance."

"I'm fine," he repeated, squinting in an attempt to see her expression in the dark. Her voice quivered when she spoke. "But what's going on, Christine? Who's out here with you?"

She sighed and quickly stood up, brushing the dusty snow from her black pant legs. In the light of the crescent moon that peaked out from behind the clouds, he could see a distant look in her eyes. As Christine titled her head toward the wind, Raoul swore he saw a shadow loom up several feet behind her. Perhaps it was just a trick of the moonlight.

"Something has happened to me," she said in a soft, breathy voice. "I can't explain it, but someone has come to help me. I have to focus, Raoul. I have to devote myself completely or else he'll leave."

Raoul dizzily attempted to stand up, still inhaling the cold air to get rid of the lingering burning in his mouth and nose. Taking a hand, he reached out to her in a comforting gesture, only to watch with dismay as she backed away from him. "You're not making any sense. Who's out here? Who's helping you?"

"Maybe an Angel," she replied with a smile, looking down at the rose in her hand. "Or maybe just a friend. It's a miracle, I think."

"What? You're still not making any sense. Who are you talking about?"

Still smiling, she began to walk in the opposite direction. "I'm sorry. I have to go now, Raoul. Have a good night."

He took several steps toward her. The surrounding trees bathed them in shadows, and a feeling of unrest hovered in the air. "Let me at least get you somewhere safe, Christine. The roads are completely iced over. What hotel are you staying at?"

She shook her head and continued walking to the long, black car. "I'm fine. I think I'm going back home tonight, anyway."

"Home? In this weather? Christine! What's going on? Why won't you talk to me?"

She paused and whirled around, feeling her instructor's presence very near to her. An extra chill emanated from the icy wind. "I'm sorry!" she called, her blond hair flying out behind her. "Things have changed. I have to go. Goodbye, Raoul." Christine turned back around and watched as the door of the car opened up, ignoring the despairing calls of her friend behind her.

As the engine switched on and the vehicle quickly began forward, she turned her head to look out the tinted window. Raoul continued to watch as the car drove away, his slouched figure soon fading off into the distance. A twinge went through her heart, but Christine quickly turned back around and allowed the heat to warm her numb face. Ths music soon began...Beethoven, she thought.

It was the only way things could be.

She needed the Voice at any cost.

* * *

Nadir shifted in the hard plastic chair, glancing at the wall clock as the second hand continued its slow descent. The clicking of computer keys sounded from behind the front desk, interrupted only when the young secretary paused to take a sip of her diet Pepsi. She had told him to wait for about fifteen minutes. He had been there for at least thirty. 

Yawning, the Iranian glanced around the small FBI branch office. It looked fairly normal, considering the work that was done there. A dull blue carpet covered the floor, and a calendar hung on the whitewashed walls. Men and women in professional suits milled about, conversing over cups of coffee. What had he been expecting, though? A mysterious hideaway of secret agents in dark suits and sunglasses? Maybe he had been watching too many American movies.

After another five minutes, The Iranian finally stood up with an annoyed sigh and walked over to the desk, beginning to get a headache from the carpet cleaner fumes and ticking clock. "Excuse me," he said, struggling to keep a polite tone. "Should I come back later? I've been waiting a while."

She glanced up and dusted a brown strand of hair out of her face. "Mr. Weiss said he'd be out at one."

"Well, it's one fifteen. Maybe I could just go grab a bite to eat."

"No need for that, Mr. Khan."

Both Nadir and the secretary started as the gruff voice came up from behind them. The Iranian turned to see a man of about fifty, dressed in an expensive navy suit that seemed to emphasize his height. His mouth bore a grim expression, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. Nadir blinked before slowly sticking out a hand. "Mr. Weiss?"

The man gave him a strong handshake. "That's right, sir. I apologize for being late. Just got out of a meeting." He turned to the secretary. "You can take your lunch break now, Beth."

As the young woman gathered up her belongings and left, Mr. Weiss motioned for Nadir to take a seat across from him. After glancing out into the corridor, he shut the door firmly and returned. Nadir waited anxiously.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Khan?" Mr. Weiss folded his hands together and leaned forward.

"I'm well," he replied, leaning back. "The drive was a little nasty with the weather, but...I managed to make it."

Mr. Weiss nodded. "Yes. It does get bad here this time of year. I spent the entire morning shoveling my car out of the snow."

"Ah...yes. That does take some time. I will...be happy to get back to a warmer climate." The Iranian awkwardly shifted.

"You and me both. I was thinking of taking a trip down to Florida over the holidays with the family. Don't know if I'll get the time off, though." He paused and glanced down. "Well. I suppose we may as well get down to business. We're both busy men." Mr. Weiss reached down and laid a manila folder onto the desk. Several cassette tapes tumbled out of it. "The file is old. We never got around to transferring the tapes onto a CD, but I imagine that they still work."

Nadir picked one up and turned it over. "What's on them?"

"Mostly interviews with some people from your country. A lot of them were people wanting to trade some information for protection." He shrugged. "I listened to them, and you really have to dig to get what you're looking for. But it's there."

"How do you know what I'm looking for?" the Iranian sharply enquired, glancing up. "How do you even know who I am?"

Mr. Weiss laughed heartily. "Don't worry, Mr. Khan. We're not spying on you. I just did a little digging through Buquet's activities. We don't have a lot of people coming around and asking about mysterious masked men. Especially not from your country."

"Oh," the Iranian replied, feeling foolish. "I guess that makes sense."

"So, my question is...why?"

"Why?"

"Why are you looking for this man? Interesting case, I'll admit, but it's more of a legend than anything. Not even worth investigating."

Nadir froze for a moment. How much should he reveal? How much did they already know? He averted his eyes to the desktop. "I...have a personal interest. That is all."

Mr. Weiss squinted at him with an unconvinced look before nodding and backing away from the desk. "Let me go get a player and let you listen to some of them. May take a couple of minutes."

Nadir nodded. "All right, Mr. Weiss." The man left the room, leaving Nadir to his ponderings.

Exactly what was he trying to do? Get Erik arrested? Absolve himself from guilt? He suddenly felt queasy.

A memory came back to him in the quiet of the room...their last conversation from over a decade ago. He could practically feel the sun burning down upon his face. The warm wind had been blowing hard that day. His masked friend had stood next to him, casting a long, thin shadow over the barren ground.

_Erik... Please. _Nadir had cautiously pled in his native tongue. _No more of this. You're young. You're brilliant. You could do so much for the world_.

He had laughed in that horrible way. _And why should I give anything to the world, Nadir? What has the world ever done besides make my life hell?_

A machine gun had gone off in the distance. The propellers of the helicopters dusted the sand up from the ground, whirling it around in the air before scattering the grains about. A baby was wailing somewhere.

Nadir had sighed and brushed the dust out of his eyes, feeling the grains in his teeth and nostrils. His companion was boring into him with those two yellow eyes, the rest of his face hidden deep within a layer of robes, scarves, and a black mask. _Then please stop the destruction. Please just...end this horror, Erik._ _You promised me that._ _That's the only reason I'm doing this for you_.

Erik had laid a thin hand upon his shoulder. The Iranian could tell by the familiar gleam in his eyes that he was grinning. _I assure you I'm done with the science of death, Nadir. I'm bored with it._ He paused and looked around at the chaos. _Besides. Mankind does a fine enough job destroying itself without my help. _

Nadir had sighed sadly. _Then I hope you find peace, friend. Somewhere out there. Away from all of this. _

Erik had been unusually quiet for a long moment, the sounds of gunfire continuing to echo around them. Another helicopter had landed, and he had glanced over to it. Turning, Erik began to make his way over to the vehicle, the folds of his dark, heavy robe waving in the wind behind him...a black ghost under the blood red sun. Before he disappeared, he had turned around and spoken one last time. A strange sadness had marred his normally indifferent, cold tone.

_There will never be peace, Nadir. Not for anyone. And especially not for me. _

Then he had disappeared into the crowds. Nothing but a memory until now.

Shaking away the memory, the Iranian glanced up to see that Mr. Weiss had still not returned. With a quick glance around the office, he got up from the chair and turned into the corridor at a fast pace, the soles of his shoes echoing against the tiles.

The FBI couldn't help him. Nadir already knew the contents of the tapes. He had lived it, for God's sake. Why should he drag the authorities into this? It was his responsibility. No one else should have to get hurt. No one else should be involved.

But no.

As he opened the doors and entered into the chilly Boston air, it occurred to him why he had really just vanished from an FBI office.

Even after everything, he still wasn't ready to bring his masked friend down.

* * *

Mr. Moncharmin turned his head so that his business partner wouldn't see his smirk. Watching Mr. Richard get upset about something was almost an amusement. Firmin's face would turn red, and his cheeks would seem to puff out. The man would begin pacing a hole into the carpet, waving his arms around in the air and talking in a voice that could be heard on the next floor. 

"I'm done with this, Armand! Done with it! I'll call the cops if I have to! To hell with complying!"

Mr. Moncharmin sighed and wiped his amusement from his face. "Would you just calm down?" he finally said. "Don't do anything stupid, Firmin. We'll both end up in jail."

"I'm not doing this anymore! Paying the guy off is one thing! But casting? Seating? I'll be damned if a whole balcony section is closed off for some nutcase. You tell Mrs. Giry to make sure it doesn't happen again! We lost hundreds of dollars in profits because of that little stunt!" He slammed his fist onto the desk and continued his march back and forth across the room.

"Well," began Mr. Moncharmin. "You won't have to worry about the casting. Charlotte Gregory made a quick recovery. She'll be back for the next performance." He laughed. "Her parents have threatened to sue if she's not on that stage."

Mr. Richard glanced up and stopped in the middle of the room. His eyes widened. "She's better? Well, that's good news. We should just thank God that the Daae girl miraculously pulled off a good performance. Now we won't have to worry about it."

"Yes, but..." Armand clenched his jaw, not wanting to agitate his partner again. "We got another letter demanding that Ms. Gregory get cast as a minor character. It was on my desk this morning...in that same red scribble."

Mr. Richard's eyes widened. "To hell with that! He can go to hell! Ms. Gregory is playing the part just as she was supposed to. This psychopath can do whatever he wants! He's been hounding us since we first took this position in New York City."

"Yes. But he could still expose us, Firmin. Not everything we've been doing is completely legal, and you know it."

His partner laughed loudly and took a sip from his ceramic coffee mug. "So we've taken a little bit of money for ourselves. Who doesn't in a charity? Besides, are you going to tell me that blackmail and threats _are_ legal? This guy is guilty of more than we are."

A low-pitched buzz suddenly sounded through the office. The lights flickered several times, casting eerie shadows upon the walls and ceiling before coming back on.

Mr. Moncharmin glanced up and frowned. "I wish the technicians would stop screwing around with the circuits. The lights have been doing that all morning."

"Faulty wiring?" offered Mr. Richard with a shrug. "Anyway, I'm going to give Ms. Gregory a call and tell her she's back on. You can tell the Daae girl she's off. And if you get any more letters, show them to the police."

The lights flickered again, this time for nearly twenty seconds. An odd but very faint odor hung in the air.

Mr. Moncharmin sighed, a strange feeling coming over him...gnawing at his stomach. The lights were going to give him a seizure if they didn't stop. "Fine," he said. "Ms. Daae is off. Ms. Gregory is on. You're right. To hell with this guy."

Mr. Richard nodded in agreement. "To hell with him."


	16. Chapter 16

Hey guys! Thanks so much to all who reviewed! The X-files? Black Hawk Down? Desperate Housewives? LOL! I guess I'll take it as a compliment that my work resembles well-known TV shows and movies. Thanks guys :)

Well, I think this is a somewhat anticipated chapter. I tried to make it interesting, and I really hope you enjoy it!

**Please Read and Review!**

Christine sat alone in a corner on one side of the stage, silently watching as the rest of the cast prepared to go on. A feeling of melancholy swept through her as she realized she would not be joining them. She would not get to experience the feeling of being applauded and appreciated by the audience. Her only job was to stand by in case Magnolia became ill, and Charlotte was dead set on performing that night.

Ever since she had returned from the cemetery several days earlier, Christine had been met with a flood of bad news. Meg had immediately called and revealed that Charlotte was well enough to perform in the next show. The doctors had apparently given up on a diagnosis, and Charlotte had recovered faster than expected.

Then, upon visiting her guardian, Christine had discovered that the doctors gave Mrs. Valerius less than two months to live. The cancer was spreading like fire. All they could do now was alleviate the pain. Although she had tried to be brave in front of her guardian, Christine had allowed the tears to pour from her eyes once she was in her car. She had just sat in front of the steering wheel, sobbing for almost an hour.

On top of everything, the Voice had not spoken to her since the strange night at the graveyard. She had gone into the little lounge the day before, hoping for a word of encouragement or solace, but only an eerie silence had met her. Was her instructor really so angry about her encounter with Raoul? Surely the Voice could see how hard she was trying to avoid her old friend. Not once had she spoken to Raoul in the last few days. He had given up the chase.

"Christine!" exclaimed an angry voice from beside her. She turned to see Charlotte glaring in her direction. The hotheaded young woman had been sneering at her all day, likely angry over Christine's success in the show.

"Yeah?" Christine wearily asked, wondering if Charlotte really was well enough to perform. She was still very pale and had lost a fair amount of weight during her illness.

"What did you do with the dress for the second act? I can't find it!"

"It should be with the other costumes," Christine replied, dreading the confrontation. "I left it in the pile after the show."

"No, you didn't," Charlotte snapped back. "I already looked there. Did you lose it? Did you take it home?"

"No! I left it with the others."

"Ms. Gregory," interrupted Mr. Remy, coming up behind them. "Your costume was taken for alterations. It should be delivered back here at any time. Please calm down. Everything will be fine."

Charlotte shook her head in disgust and quickly walked away. Christine sighed with relief, feeling the need to get away from the commotion. Leaving the stage, she started to look for a water fountain. The air seemed especially dry, and there was the very faint smell of something burning. Christine pulled up her sleeves and rubbed her temples, beginning to get a headache in the overheated building.

"Ms. Daae?" Just as she spotted a water fountain, a deep, accented voice came up from behind her. She whirled around to focus on a well-dressed man with an expression of concern upon his darkly toned face. It took her several seconds to realize that he had come to her hotel several months ago. He had been the one to leave so quickly.

"Yes?" she replied with uncertainty, noticing that the halls were nearly empty.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment." He paused and glanced around before turning back to her. "There is something important I need to ask you."

"What about?" The man's dark, enquiring eyes made her nervous.

He hesitated. "It is best to talk somewhere else. Please. Come with me for just a moment. I promise I mean you no harm."

"I...have to get to the stage," she quickly replied, taking several steps back. "I'm sorry. I really can't talk right now." Christine turned around, jumping as the man's hand came down upon her shoulder as if to hold her in place.

"Please, Ms. Daae. It is very important that I talk to you. You could be in great danger."

Her heartbeat quickened as she shrugged his hand off. "No...I really have to go. Please."

"What's going on here?"

Christine looked up to see Raoul walking toward them, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

The Middle Eastern man glanced up as well, frowning at the interruption. "I just need to talk to her a moment, young man. It will only take a second."

"I don't think she wants to talk to you," Raoul replied, continuing to come forward. "What's this all about?"

The strange man sighed and threw his hands up into the air in frustration. "Never mind!" he exclaimed, turning around and walking away. He quickly strode through the hall before finally turning left and disappearing down another corridor. Christine brushed a strand of hair out of her face and gazed after him for a moment.

"Who was that?" Raoul asked, coming up beside her.

"I don't know," she replied. "I saw him a long time ago, but I don't know who he is." Christine turned to face her friend. "Thanks for intervening, though. I wasn't sure what to do."

"No problem," he said softly. "Anyway, I just wanted to come say goodbye to you. Phillip and I are leaving after this show. Heading back to the city."

"Oh." Christine looked up. "It was nice seeing you again. I...I'm sorry we didn't get to spend much time together. I know everything is hard to understand."

"It is," he agreed, not hiding the slight contempt in his voice. "But I guess you must have your reasons."

She nodded with a sad smile. "Yeah. I do."

Raoul started to turn in the opposite direction. "Good luck with everything, Christine. Maybe I'll run into you again someday."

"Good luck to you, too."

He nodded and walked off, leaving her to her thoughts. After getting a quick drink of water, Christine slowly made her way back to the stage, feeling even more alone. It seemed as if everyone was disappearing on her these days. Perhaps after the show, she would attempt to speak with her instructor again. Surely he hadn't truly abandoned her.

Most of the audience was already inside, chatting among themselves and waiting for the performance to begin. She immediately saw Raoul and Phillip toward the middle rows. Phillip was talking with the people behind them, and his younger brother was quietly staring at the stage with a dull look in his eyes. Christine sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt for having to hurt her childhood friend.

Within several minutes, the lights dimmed and the opening score began to play. Taking a seat to the side, Christine settled in to watch. She leaned back against the plaster wall as a yawn of exhaustion escaped from her throat. The warmth from the building continued to add to her fatigue. She was almost happy not to be in one of the heavy costumes.

Drifting in and out of a light doze, Christine was vaguely aware of the succession of familiar songs being played. _Cap'n Andy's Calliope_ began, the fun melody lightening her mood somewhat. Trevor sang his first song strongly, earning a loud round of applause from the audience. As Charlotte began her first duet, _Make Believe, _Christine noticed that her voice had gotten weaker since the illness. She was definitely struggling with some of the higher notes.

Just as Christine began to drift off again, the shrill siren of an ambulance blasted through the air, causing both cast and audience to jump and look around. The noise had sounded as though it were coming directly from the stage, fading after several seconds amidst the confused chattering of the audience.

"What was that?" asked Meg, coming up behind her. "It was too close to be outside."

"I have no idea, Meg. I've been sitting here the entire time. Maybe it's problems with the sound effects."

The cast looked around before awkwardly resuming their lines. Charlotte began to sing her part again, her mouth twisted in uncertainty.

As Magnolia stepped forward on the fake wooden boat, beginning to regain her confidence, the clamor of dogs barking sounded from above the stage. Howls, yips, and woofs emanated throughout the auditorium, bringing about both gasps and laughs from the audience. A look of horror crossed Charlotte's face. Mr. Remy strode out to the bottom of a stairwell, running a hand through his thinning, gray hair nervously.

"What the hell is going on up there?" he called to the sound technicians.

One of the younger assistants came out of the room and shrugged with a bewildered look. "We're not doing anything up here. The equipment is messed up! I don't understand where the sounds are coming from!"

Mr. Remy shook his head in disgust before returning to the stage. "Keep going!" he whispered to the nervous cast. "Maybe it's over. Just continue!"

Eyes wide and fists clenched, Charlotte raised her head to sing again. Just as she opened her mouth, a loud ensemble of frogs began croaking...coming from all corners in a horrible orchestra. With a sharp sob, Ms. Gregory ran off the stage, pale and shaking. The rest of the cast looked around helplessly as the croaking died down.

Amidst the nervous murmurs, a very high-pitched buzzing began to vibrate through the air, slowly growing in audibility. The lights both on and off stage began to rapidly flicker as the noise grew louder, and the room became encased in a wide medley of darting shadows. Christine remained frozen in place, attempting to keep her balance and looking around for a familiar face. With a sigh of distress, she began to make her way to the back of the stage, hoping to find Meg again.

Gasps could be heard from all around. Some people closed their eyes, growing dizzy from the flashing lights. Several people were attempting to leave the room in a panic, tripping over feet as they unsteadily walked through the aisles. With a final crackling sound, the lights finally switched off all together, leaving the auditorium in darkness. The entire building was pitch black.

A voice immediately came over the intercom, barely audible over the disconcerted voices of the audience. "Please do not panic, ladies and gentlemen. We're experiencing some technical problems. Please remain seated. If repairs cannot be made, we will attempt to get everyone out in an orderly fashion."

From somewhere in the darkness, Christine heard panicked voices talking to one another. Several flashlights switched on, along with a few of the emergency lights. One man whispered frantically from below stage. "The wires! They're all severely overheated! All of them! We need to get people out of here before there's an electrical fire!"

"What? How did that happen?" gasped Mr. Remy. "Go find the managers! I'll try to get an announcement made. We don't want a stampede!" He turned to the cast. "Everyone go through the back exits now. Before the audience gets up. Hurry!"

Christine blindly made her way out with everyone else, using the dim emergency lighting to find her way. She paused in the middle of the corridor, beginning to feel dizzy in the endless darkness as she tried to get to the exits. From far away, she could hear the pounding of footsteps as the audience attempted to get out of the building. The smell of burnt rubber lingered faintly in the air.

With a choked cry, Christine turned and realized she was standing near the familiar lounge. She swallowed thickly, suddenly wanting to hear _his_ guiding voice. What if he had somehow been hurt in all of this? The thought made her heart freeze.

Oblivious to the noise around her, Christine made her way to the door and placed her hand upon the warm metal knob. Suddenly, she sensed someone near to her in the darkness. Her breath caught in her throat as she whirled around.

Several feet away from her stood a figure, at least a foot taller than she was. Enshrouded in black, he was just barely visible. As two tiny yellow lights beamed down upon her, Christine could do nothing but stare back, frozen into place.

"Christine," came the familiar voice of her instructor, even more haunting in its nearness. "Come with me. I will take you away from this. I will allow the world to see you. You will never be lonely again." A black-clad hand reached out to her. "Come, Christine."

The voice was the same, smooth and hypnotizing...drawing her toward the looming shadow. Someone was calling her name in the distance, but she couldn't bring herself to turn around. The Voice had come to her. She found herself reaching for the hand, lost from her surroundings.

The figure clasped onto her firmly and led her through the shadows of the theater...through the now-emptied corridors and toward the back. She merely followed, entranced and numb. The excessive warmth and strange fumes contributed to the fog inside of her mind.

It was only when she exited through a pair of double doors and into the freezing evening that she was partially awakened from her stupor. Looking around and inhaling a breath of cold, fresh air, Christine became aware of her position. The hand still held her firmly in its grasp, pulling her forward at a quick pace. A noise of protest escaped from her lips, and she attempted to pull back a little.

The figure turned around. In the light from several street lamps, she noticed for the first time that his entire face was covered in a shiny, black mask. A pair of yellow eyes looked through the tiny slits and down upon her.

"Where...where are we going?" she asked, shivering from the cold and a building sense of fear.

"Everything will be fine," he whispered. "Come, Christine. You will see all that awaits you."

"But...I..." Christine turned her head to look back at the theater, the beginnings of a scream threatening to emerge from her dry throat. _What was happening?_

"Christine."

She turned around at the melodious sound of her name. Immediately, something soft covered her lips and nose. A foreign smell invaded her mouth and nostrils, causing her eyes to widen in shock.

Within another second, a feeling of complete exhaustion overtook her body. She could no longer think or speak. Her eyelids drooped as her head became a cluttered mess of distant memories. With her last ounce of consciousness, Christine realized she was going to collapse to the cold ground.

The fear of falling faded as a pair of arms caught her limp body.

Slowly, she was carried forward to someplace unknown.

Then there was darkness.


	17. Chapter 17

Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you guys so much for the wonderful reviews! I wasn't expecting that many and was very inspired. A feature has been added that allows me to directly reply to reviewers. If anyone has a problem with me replying to them, please tell me. I will only do it if you have a question or if I really enjoy something you said, but I don't want to scare any of my reviewers away if they are bothered by this.

**Read and Review!**

The last glimpse of Christine that he saw was a quick flash of blonde hair, barely visible in the consuming darkness. Raoul Chagny called out her name a second time, curious as to why she had paused in the middle of the corridor and wanting to make sure that she was okay in all of the chaos. People continued to push their way past him. He winced as an elbow jabbed him in the stomach and continued to fight his way through the crowds.

With dismay, he noticed that she could not hear him over the panicked murmuring of the mobs of people. Christine began walking forward at a quick pace, almost oblivious to her surroundings. Squinting, Raoul realized that someone was in her company, but it was too dark to see who her tall companion was.

Finally, he made his way out of the sweltering hallway and into the frigid night air. Groups of people were scattered about, huddled for warmth and wondering what to do next. Some had already begun to go find their cars. Scanning the crowds, Raoul could see no one familiar. It seemed that Christine had disappeared into the shadows.

Turning to his right, Raoul saw a vaguely familiar face in the dim streetlights. The Middle Eastern man who had been bothering Christine that evening was standing with his arms folded and his mouth contorted in deep distress. Their eyes met for a moment, but Raoul quickly looked away and began to search for his friend again.

"Raoul!" The voice of his older brother came from behind him. "Why the heck did you run off? I've been searching for you for over twenty minutes!"

Raoul turned. "I was trying to find Christine. I was worried about her. But..." He looked around again. "I think she's gone."

Phillip shrugged. "I'm sure she's fine. I thought you weren't going to bother with her anymore."

"I wasn't. It's...just that something strange is going on. I don't understand why she won't talk to me. She doesn't act mad. It's like...there's something else."

His brother laughed loudly. "You're the last person who should be trying to figure out women. It's a hopeless cause. Look. She's obviously not interested. Move on. Forget her."

Raoul shot his brother a quick glare before letting out a sigh. "Yeah. I'm just kind of worried about her." He glanced up as an ambulance and several fire trucks pulled up to the curb with a screech. A few stragglers were still making their way out of the building.

"She's fine, Raoul. Just leave her alone." Phillip looked around. "I think it's time to get out of here. This town is starting to irritate me. I'm actually starting to miss the city."

Raoul reluctantly nodded, a heavy feeling settling inside of his chest. After a last glance at the crowds, he slowly followed his brother back to the parking lot.

Later that evening, after he had packed the last of his belongings up into a leather suitcase, Raoul picked up his cellular phone. After punching in Mrs. Valerius' number, he let it ring five times before finally hanging up.

He really hadn't expected anyone to be home, though.

* * *

The first time that she awoke, Christine was vaguely aware of a car door opening beside her. A whirl of cold air brushed across her face, and she could hear the hum of traffic off in the distance. Christine suddenly felt a pair of hands come up beneath her back and lift her out of the car. She moaned in protest and forced her eyelids open to try to make sense of what was happening. 

Her captor was walking forward with his gaze straight ahead. His black mask glinted in the streetlights, and his yellow eyes seemed more visible. Christine raised her head and weakly attempted to struggle away and to the ground. She immediately became dizzy and disoriented, freezing completely when the masked man looked directly at her.

"Remain still," he commanded gently. "It is a long way to the ground."

Her throat was too parched for her to speak or scream. Again, she attempted to sit up and somehow escape his hold on her. With a sigh, her captor placed a gloved hand over her mouth and nose, limiting her breathing significantly.

Already weak from exhaustion and fear, Christine felt herself began to succumb to unconsciousness again.

"Sleep, Christine," were the last words she heard.

The second time she woke up, Christine was greeted with complete silence. As the fog lifted from her mind, she let out a groan, feeling a dull ache inside of her skull. With her eyes still closed, she desperately tried to remember where she was. Was she at home? How had she gotten there?

Opening her eyes, Christine immediately let out a sharp gasp and raised her head from the pillow. Only a very dim lamp lit the room, illuminating the completely unfamiliar surroundings. Pure white walls surrounded a medium-sized bedroom, giving the room a hazy glow. The floor was made of polished wood with an ornate blue and gold throw rug in the center of it. Strange figurines and porcelain vases stood on the many shelves that lined the walls. On one side was a large dresser with nine sets of drawers. She also noticed that there were three silver-knobbed doors within the bedroom, two slightly ajar and one firmly closed.

Looking down, she saw she was lying in a queen-sized bed, covered in a thick midnight blue comforter. The air surrounding her was just slightly too cold to be comfortable, and she felt a shiver run through her as she continued to gaze around in bewilderment. Once the ache in her head became only a minor discomfort, Christine slowly removed the covers from her body and turned around on the bed. A feeling of fear was slowly building inside of her, and she even wondered if she was dreaming.

Standing up, Christine felt the cold floor beneath her socks and realized she had no memory of removing her shoes. Like a lost child, she stood in the middle of the room, wondering where to go or what to do. Turning, she let out a gasp as a stoic face greeted her, only to shake her head in relief as she saw it was nothing but a doll on a shelf...a blonde, porcelain doll wearing a lavender velvet dress from the nineteenth century. She quickly turned away from its eerie stare and hugged her arms to her body.

Walking over to one of the ajar doors, she reached out a shaking hand and pulled it open. It was a full bathroom, decorated with pine green rugs and towels. Scented shampoos, soaps, and other toiletries had been laid out along the counter of the sink. Flipping on the light, she saw that several nails were poking out from the middle of the wall. Immediately, Christine realized that a mirror should have been hanging there. From the black scratch marks that were engraved into the white wall, it appeared to have been torn down violently.

Turning off the light, Christine took several shaky breaths and turned back around. Her eyes wandered to the door that was completely closed. On the one hand, she wanted out of the gilded cell. At the same time, she dreaded what she would find on the other side. Blurred newspaper images of kidnaped and murdered young women entered her mind. Was she to be the next smiling photograph on a missing person's poster?

Tiptoing across the cold floorboards, she slowly put her ear to the door and listened. There was complete silence, except for a very soft and rhythmic ticking sound. Biting her lip, Christine twisted the knob and cracked open the door. She found herself looking into a strangely decorated living room.

Two black leather sofas and an armchair stood in the middle, all three showing few signs of age. Between them was a circular mahogany table, its four legs bent and twisted into odd cylindrical shapes. As in the bedroom, the shelves were filled with contorted figurines and unidentifiable objects, although these were more grotesque. Statues of snakes, arachnids, and various predators lined the walls, their glaring eyes constantly focused upon her. Only a few signs existed of the modern era, including several standing lamps and a digital clock.

From behind her, Christine noticed the ticking sound again and turned around to see a gold and black wall clock. Both the minute and second hands were in the shapes of ebony serpents with yellow eyes, and she found them almost hypnotizing as they slowly made their way around the Roman numerals.

"Do you like it?"

Christine let out a gasp and whirled around. There stood her captor at his daunting height, watching her intently from behind the black piece of porcelain. His arms were folded across his chest, and his dark suit hung loosely upon his looming frame.

"I believe it was handcrafted in Switzerland," he continued in that voice she had come to know so well. " It is one of my more prized possessions."

She stood there frozen, barely able to comprehend his words. Continuing to stare into the two golden eyes, Christine attempted to take several steps backward, only to run into the wall. Although she was very aware that this was the Voice, she couldn't bring herself to connect her heavenly instructor with this wraith-like man.

"There is no need to be frightened, Christine." She could almost detect amusement in his voice. "You are perfectly safe here. Nothing can harm you."

Finally, she was able to get her lips to move. "Where am I?"

"In one of my many homes," he replied, gesturing with his arms. "It is probably the most comfortable. Your bedroom is really one of a kind."

His casual tone was almost incomprehensible to her. The fact that she couldn't even see his expressions made her even more nervous. Was he mocking her? Toying with her before he...did something else? "Why am I here? Who are you?"

"I have told you. I am going to allow the world to hear your divine voice. I have taken you to a place where you can concentrate solely on your music...where no one _else_ will interfere. You are secure here, Christine. There is no need to worry."

She shook her head in disbelief. "No! I can't be here. People will look for me! You have to take me back!" Christine knew she was begging, but what choice did she have? There was no way she would win any struggle against him. She didn't even know where the exit was.

"Very few people will miss your short absence." He paused as if in thought. "You are not a prisoner here. I only wish you to become used to these surroundings. It is really the perfect place to ensure that we are not interrupted. After you have spent some time here, then you may leave. And you will willingly come back."

His calmness was almost infuriating. "I want to go back home!" she exclaimed, her eyes darting around the room in search of any escape at all. "You can't keep me here! Please!"

"I won't keep you here, Christine," he calmly replied. "I only said that I wished for you to stay. You are free to leave when you want." He motioned toward a door on the left before refolding his arms, continuing to watch her with a relaxed posture.

She glanced at him with distrust, before looking back to the aforementioned door. Would he attempt to grab her if she tried to run? Taking a breath, she moved from against the wall and walked to the door, keeping her eyes away from him. The silver knob was cold underneath her hand, leading her to believe it truly did lead to the outside. With a quick glance behind her, she saw that he had not moved from his original place. Only the yellow eyes continued to follow her.

Christine turned the knob and opened the door, letting in a gust of frigid air. She was immediately met with darkness and an orchestra of horrible noises. To her front and left was nothing but a tall concrete wall. Turning to her right, she saw a long stairwell of concrete steps that led to the surface. Glaring lights shone from somewhere above. The sounds of sirens, barking dogs, and angry yelling met her ears. A glass bottle shattered, and a car alarm went off. It was a stark contrast from the richly decorated rooms behind her. Frankly, she had no idea where she was.

"I am sure that there are many things out there that would love to get their hands on you, Christine. You are quite a lovely prey. Why not stay where you are protected and _loved_?"

She merely continued to stare outside with a growing feeling of horror. Reaching out from behind her, her captor firmly shut the door, thereby making the decision for her. Taking a key, he locked it from the inside. It dawned on her that there was now no escape.

As she stared at the ground, she felt a hand fall upon her shoulder. She flinched and turned around. Her captor quickly drew back his arm as if bitten.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, looking up at him. "What do you want?"

He hesitated. "I am Erik. Your instructor and your friend. I wish to hear your voice throughout my lonely little apartment. I think that you will become happy here in time...away from the rest of the world."

"I want to go home," she pled dully. "Please. I can't stay here."

"You will go home when I want you to," he replied with slight hostility. "Now. You can either eat something or retire for the night. I understand if you are tired."

Knowing that she was defeated, Christine turned around and walked quickly to her supposed room, shutting the door tightly behind her. She saw with dismay that there was no way to lock it from the inside. As tears of panic began to well up in her eyes, she began to open the many drawers, combing through them to find something of use. Pens and paper lay in some. Others were filled with strange trinkets and pieces of jewelry. In one, she even found a silver hand mirror and placed it to the side so that she would have a way to see herself.

Finally, far back in one of the dresser drawers, her hand felt along something sharp. Grabbing the handle of the object, Christine pulled out a letter opener. The keen edge glinted in the dim lighting.

Grasping onto the instrument tightly, she climbed onto the bed and tucked the potential weapon beneath her pillow. Not bothering to get undressed, she lay down atop the comforter and attempted to organize her frantic thoughts. She tried to keep from panicking...tried to think of some sort of plan of action that would ensure her escape.

Obviously, she was trapped in some sort of basement with a psychopath. Her beloved Voice was a masked man. There was no protector or surreal being. And now...now she was truly alone.

What would he do to her? What did he really want with her?

And even in all of her fears and questions concerning her own survival, Christine couldn't help but wonder what _was_ beneath that strange mask of black porcelain.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! Each one is a present in my inbox.

School is about over, so I finally had some time to write. This chapter felt a little awkward to me, but I think I just need some time to get into the flow of the story again. Hopefully it came out okay. And...sorry for the cheap cliffy. It just kind of fit the chapter. :)

Anyway, I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story. Your feedback is much appreciated! I'll start doing some responses every so often.

**Read and Review!**

_One Dead of Stroke After Theater Panic_

Nadir read the bold printed headline twice before tossing the newspaper into the seat next to him. As he stared out the front window of the grey Toyota, the Iranian was glad he had finally caved in and rented a car. The wind was as cold as ever, and another round of flurries had already begun to float down from the sky. Taking a sip of coffee from a styrofoam cup, he leaned back into the seat and continued his wait. The empty theater stood in front of him.

Without a doubt, he knew that Erik was responsible for the mess of the previous night. The elaborate disruptions were a trademark of his masked friend, and the Iranian had seen variations of them many years before. If not for the expert work of electricians and firemen, the whole theater would have gone up in flames. Only one person had died, likely of overexertion while trying to get out of the sweltering building. They were really lucky that only one fatality had occurred.

_All's well that ends well_ the Iranian thought, bitterly. But now what? Where had Erik gone this time?

The previous night, after Nadir had finally left the chaotic scene, he at first had no other concern but to find Erik again. Then, he had come upon a frightening realization. While standing outside the theater, he had seen Christine's friend looking around the area. The young man had appeared extremely concerned, but Nadir had brushed it off as just anxiety over the theater evacuation.

Looking back, he realized that the young man had been searching for someone. Somehow, the Iranian knew that he had been looking for Christine. Nadir hadn't seen the blonde girl gathered with the other members of the cast and crew that night, and he suddenly had a sick, sinking feeling that she was gone. He hadn't been able to warn her in time.

Now, Nadir was back to endlessly searching for a man that could never be found, only this time an innocent girl might be in danger. Not knowing what else to do, he had dialed number after number that morning, trying to get in touch with someone from the theater. Perhaps they had an address or telephone number on record, as "Christine Daae" hadn't been in the phonebook. Finally, he had gotten into contact with the owner of the theater, a Mr. Gregory Ramirez. They were supposed to meet there that morning while Mr. Ramirez brought some men to look over the electrical wiring. The owner hadn't sounded exactly thrilled about the meeting, but Nadir had assured him it was a matter of extreme importance, even going as far as to say he was a member of the law.

With relief, Nadir saw a dark blue car pull up into a nearby parking space, soon followed by a white pickup truck. An older man in a neatly pressed suit climbed out of the first car. Two younger men in work clothes and with toolboxes climbed out of the truck and trailed behind him. Nadir immediately met them at the front of the building.

"Excuse me, sir!" the Iranian exclaimed. The older man turned and nodded. "Mr. Ramirez?"

"That's me," the owner answered grimly. "Mr. Khan?" Nadir nodded in confirmation. "Let's get out of this weather and into the building. I want to get these men started on their work. Then, I'll talk to you. It's going to have to be brief, though."

Nadir quickly followed behind, waiting impatiently as Mr. Ramirez directed the electricians into the building and toward a back utility room. Only emergency lights continued to illuminate the theater, as it was still deemed unsafe to turn on the electricity. The Iranian noticed with interest that the structure was much more complex than it looked on the outside. Some parts of the walls and sidings appeared more worn than other parts. "Was this building renovated?" he casually asked when Mr. Ramirez emerged from a back room.

"Yes. It's been slowly fixed up over the last decade. Why?"

Nadir shrugged. "Just curious. Those rooms go far back."

Mr. Ramirez gave him a suspicious look. "Yeah. I like to keep the utilities out of the way. It keeps people from playing around with them...or at least it did." He shook his head in disgust. "Now what did you want to talk to me about? This is rather a bad time."

"Yes. I will be brief. I was wondering if I could get someone's phone number from you. One of the young actresses here may be in some trouble, and your help would be greatly appreciated. If you don't have it, I would just like to ask you a couple of questions." Nadir at once realized how ridiculous the request sounded, but this was the only lead he could think of. For all he knew, Erik was out of the country.

Mr. Ramirez frowned and folded his arms. "I don't just hand out personal information, sir. Even if I did, I have no time to access it now. Unless you can prove you're with the police, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Nadir glanced around before taking several steps closer. "Mr. Ramirez," he whispered. "I'm sure you're very aware of the strange occurrences going on at your theater. It would be very wise..."

"Nothing is going on at _my_ theater," the middle-aged man snapped back. "My theater was just fine until those idiots from New York got here. That's when all the trouble started. Whatever is going on, take it up with Mr. Moncharmin and Mr. Richard!"

Nadir's eyes widened. "New York?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Mr. Ramirez replied with a frown of disdain. "They went back to New York City. I don't know what they were involved it, but they certainly wrecked things around here. My lawyers are looking into it right now." His eyes narrowed. "You aren't with them, are you?"

"No!" Nadir exclaimed, drawing back. "I've never even met them. But...you're sure about them being from New York? And you're sure there were no problems until they arrived?"

"Positive. Everything was fine until then."

"Mr. Ramirez?" interrupted one of the electricians, poking his head out from behind a door. "We found some strange things back here. Were you doing work on the sound systems?"

Mr. Ramirez glanced up. "No! Why? What did you find?"

"Just a bunch of wires where they shouldn't be. Someone was definitely manipulating the circuits." He went back in, and a shuffling sound could be heard. "Jesus. I think some of these things are connected to the intercoms. The sound systems were definitely sabotaged."

The owner placed a hand to his head in distress. "Just wait a second! I'm coming back there." He shook his head. "That is the last time anyone comes here without a thorough background check."

"Hey!" called out the same worker. "Found the problems with the lighting. It's going to take a heck of a lot of work to fix, though. Your security cameras are also messed up. "

"I said I'd be back there!" shouted Mr. Ramirez, trying to hold on to his last ounce of patience. He shook his head tiredly. "I need to go, Mr. Khan. Please take your problems elsewhere."

Nadir rubbed his chin in deep thought and nodded. "I will, Mr. Ramirez," he said after a moment. "Thank you for your time." He hesitated. "You might want to check your ventilation ducts as well."

Before Mr. Ramirez could respond, the Iranian turned and quickly headed for the door, wearily realizing he had a long drive ahead of him. It wasn't the greatest lead, but it was all he had at the moment. Somehow, Nadir even made sense of the fact that his masked friend would hide himself in the crowds he so despised.

But how the hell was he ever going to find the world's most elusive man in the country's biggest city?

* * *

The night was long and restless. For most of the dark hours, Christine remained awake, staring wide-eyed at the lifeless ornaments that decorated the room. Every outside noise startled her, and she even reached for the letter opener on several occasions. She was constantly waiting for him to come in….waiting for him to do whatever he planned to do. When Christine did sleep, she was haunted with disturbing dreams and a horrible feeling of anxiety. 

At some early morning hour, as her gaze drifted around the foreign room, Christine began to wonder how she had wound up in the situation. How had she become wrapped up in such a nightmare? After years of organizing her life and maintaining sensibility, she had allowed herself to fall into some sort of fantasy. For the past several months, all reason had left her. Perhaps the pain of Mrs. Valerius' inevitable death had been the breaking point.

Anyhow, it didn't matter how she had arrived there now. She was trapped in some frightening place with a man in a mask. Her survival was the only thing that mattered. The only aspect of the situation that calmed her nerves was the lengths her captor had gone to make her comfortable. He didn't seem like he had immediate plans to murder her. And….what was it he had said when she attempted to leave?

_Why not stay where you are protected and _loved?

Christine shuddered. Getting up from the bed, she walked over to where she had laid the hand mirror and looked at her reflection. Her blonde hair was a matted mess, and dark circles hung under eyes, contrasting sharply with her pale face. The sweater and jeans she was wearing were wrinkled from sleep. Swallowing, Christine noticed how dry her throat was and realized that she hadn't had anything to drink or eat since before the performance. Her head spun slightly as she made her way to the bathroom.

To her dismay, no glasses were sitting on the marble counter. Cupping her hands, she turned on the faucet and attempted to get a drink, only to find that the water always ended up running through her fingers. Taking a washcloth, she wetted it with cold water and wiped it over her face, feeling the need to clean the grime and sleep away. A shower stood beside her, but the thought of leaving herself even more vulnerable to _him _was very unappealing. After brushing some of the tangles out of her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and looked around aimlessly.

If she stayed in there forever, she would starve to death, and the confining space was starting to make her feel nauseous. Besides, her bedroom was unlocked. If he wanted to do something, he was easily able to enter.

Taking a breath, she stepped out the door and into the living area. The room was lit by several lamps, and there was the faint smell of cooking in the air. A digital clock told her that it was just after seven in the morning. She walked around the room, staring at the predatorial figurines with morbid fascination.

"You are awake early."

For the second time, she was startled by his voice. Her shoulders tensed as she turned to face him. He looked the same as he had the night before, darkly dressed and standing tall. Only his yellow eyes seemed to glow with less intensity.

Christine bit her lip and swallowed. Her parched throat reminded her why she had emerged, yet she didn't want to ask or depend on him for anything.

"Are you hungry?" he enquired calmly. "You haven't eaten since before the performance."

"I'm thirsty," she finally said with submission. An undeniable look of triumph crossed her captor's eyes. Christine looked down to the wooden floor, feeling angry at him and herself.

"Then I will get you a glass of water," was his simple reply. He turned and left for another room, leaving her to gaze around the living area. Several doors surrounded her on all sides, and she couldn't help but wonder what each contained. Her eyes wandered to the exit, and she decided that the tumult outside would seem less daunting in the daylight. That hope faded as she noticed that the door was still securely locked.

Christine turned back around and saw her captor standing with the glass of water. He had walked back into the room without a sound. Her eyes met his for a moment, and she slowly reached out a shaking hand to take the glass. As her fingers brushed the flesh of his hand, she let out an unintentional gasp and drew back.

He was ice cold.

Deathly cold.

The yellow eyes flared for a second, and he quickly set the glass on a nearby table. She stepped back, but he made no further movement toward her.

"Drink when you wish," he said, before turning around and disappearing again.

Christine stared after him a minute before finally picking up the glass of water. She looked down into the clear fluid, making sure there was nothing suspicious within the cup. As her throat became almost painfully dry, she gave in and took a drink. The liquid was cool and refreshing, calming her shattered nerves somewhat.

He returned several minutes later, showing no remembrance of the previous encounter. "If you are hungry, there is food in the kitchen."

Christine closed her eyes and attempted to steady her voice. "I...I want to go home. Please. I promise I won't tell anyone or get the police. I just want to go back. I can't stay here any longer. You can't keep me here." Her voice cracked a little, and she berated herself for sounding so weak.

"Christine," he began in a gentle tone. "You will only be here for several days. I am sure you will find it is an enjoyable place once you allow yourself to settle down. As I have said, you are not in any danger. You are more safe than ever."

"But..." She sighed in frustration, realizing her pleading was futile. "How long do I have to stay?" was her only weary question.

He was silent for a moment. "A week should be fine. Yes. One week."

A look of dismay crossed her face. The thought of staying there another minute was frightening enough.

"Come. I will show you my home." He made a slight motion with his hand for her to follow him. She reluctantly obeyed, keeping a fair distance behind his towering figure and taking notice of his elegant stride. A burning curiosity was now competing with her fear.

He motioned toward the room adjoining the sitting room, and she glanced inside the kitchen. Compared to the other rooms, this one was surprisingly normal and modern. A functional black stove, refrigerator, and microwave were all present. Several of the strange glass figurines decorated some of the shelves, and the visible dishes had spiraled designs on them. Still, though, nothing too eerie jumped out at her.

Her captor continued forward and placed a hand upon a doorknob. He hesitated for several seconds before finally opening the door with a soft click. "This is my room," he stated. "Do not come in here unless I am with you."

She gazed in and was immediately surprised by how large it was. Christine's eyes settled on the object in the center, and she nearly choked. The structure was obviously a bed of some kind, but it looked like a...a...No! It couldn't be! The black pillows and blankets were strung over a box. A six-sided box.

"My bed seems unusual to you?" he asked with amusement. "I guess it is strange. But it is comfortable. And I don't sleep very often."

"I see," she murmured, tearing her gaze away from the sight. Looking to her left, she saw a polished wooden piano. The instrument had to be many decades old and was engraved with various designs. The rectangular bench had a black, velvet cushion sitting atop it. Sheets of music sat against the tall backframe, some handwritten and scribbled upon in red ink.

"Another one of my prized possessions," he proudly stated, following her gaze. "That is where much of my time is spent when I'm here."

"It's very beautiful," she said quietly as she walked toward it. She softly brushed the smooth wood with her fingertips. The music sitting above the keys was unfamiliar and disorganized. The red notes were scattered about with no identifiable rhythm, and she could barely tell where each measure ended and began.

Looking around the rest of the room, Christine saw that it was a contrast of modern objects mixed with antiques...the normal mixed with the grotesque. A small television sat next to a blue vase decorated with crimson scorpions. Two black speakers were placed next to a pair of miniature gargoyle statues.

"Do you like it?" he asked, placing his hands behind his back.

"It's very...different," she replied, gnawing at her lip. "But nice." Christine stopped and looked twice at the wall on the other side of the room. Several moments passed before she realized that another door was built into it. The doorknob had been torn off so that the doorframe almost blended in with the wall. Only a slightly gray hue differentiated it from the white paint.

"Stay away from that," he stated, obviously annoyed at her discovery. "It contains personal possessions that are for no one's eyes. Do you understand?"

She immediately nodded, unnerved by the malice in his voice. After a moment, the eerie silence began to grate at her. "Do you...write music?" she enquired.

"I do. I am working on a composition at the moment." He gestured to the piano. "My masterpiece."

"Can I hear it...Erik?" she asked, using his name for the first time. Anything that would get his attention off of her would be a blessing.

"No. It is not for your ears, Christine. The pain of it is for me alone." The yellow eyes blinked, and Christine shifted awkwardly. She hated never being able to see his expressions, never knowing whether he was mocking her or being serious. Only his eyes gave any clue to his emotions, and she felt uncomfortable looking into their piercing gaze. The solitude of her personal room was starting to sound pleasant again.

"However," he began, causing her to look up. "I think that I would like to hear you sing. Yes. That is why you are here in the first place, isn't it?"

"I...maybe you could play something first," she softly replied, knowing anything she sang would come out a garbled mess. She could barely even speak.

Erik nodded. "Fine, then. Classical? Or would you prefer something current?" He asked the last question with disdain.

"Classical is fine," she quickly replied.

He nodded in what she took to be appreciation. "I think you will enjoy "Solfeggio," he stated, pulling out a sheet of music before positioning his hands over the piano.

As his fingers began to fly and glide across the keys, Christine suddenly remembered why he had entranced her during those months. His voice, when speaking from so high above, had truly sounded divine. Now, his ability with the piano was drawing her in with the same effect. He played the rapid piece with astounding ease. She followed along through the notes, almost forgetting her earlier fears. Reflexively, she turned the sheet over as he came to the end of the page. Christine closed her eyes and listened to the fast notes and varying dynamics, opening them only during the final _forte_.

Erik looked up at her as he finished. "Did you enjoy it? It's a bit simple, I suppose."

"No! It was wonderful!" she exclaimed, emerging from the stupor. Those two eyes stared up at her with an emotion she couldn't discern. _Who was this man? How could his talent be kept in isolation? What did he want with her? _"Will you play something else?" she asked.

He eagerly nodded and launched into the familiar "Moonlight Sonata," as if knowing that it was one of her favorite classical pieces. A relaxed smile played across her lips as the smooth melody reached her ears and filled the room. Still playing, he looked at her once and seemed to take satisfaction in the look of pleasure on her face. As he came nearer to the ending line, she again reached out to turn the page.

Christine's hand hovered in the air for a moment. Her captor was still in deep concentration, and she realized he probably knew the piece without even looking at the notes. The music sheets were there for her benefit alone. Fascination and intrigue filled her. Who was her instructor? He had to be some kind of genius.

Immersed in the melody, Erik gave a slight nod for her to turn to the next page. Her curious gaze remained on him, though, and her hand veered away from the sheets of music. She had to know the face of the Voice. Taking her thumb and index finger, she plucked the mask off in one quick motion.

The shattering of the black porcelain into a billion tiny fragments marked the untimely ending of the sonata.


	19. Chapter 19

School is finally over for the semester, so I can now devote my time to more important things. Like fan fiction :) Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I will try to make it a habit of replying to several of you each time because I do love your feedback.

Like the last chapter, this one will also closely follow the book. It's one of the few chapters that is entirely E/C, mostly because I thought that their current relationship needed to be developed before the story moved along. After that, I'll start some more original twists. As it says in my story summary, this has Leroux undertones, but it's not a perfect reflection of the book. And I don't think that the majority of you would want a perfect reflection of the book, anyway. ;)

**Read and Review!**

Christine at first believed herself to be staring at a second mask...a horrible, lifelike piece of plaster in the shape of a gray skull. No human face could look like this. Not unless it was in the process of decay.

Like everyone else, she had seen disfigurements on the news and in magazines, people with cleft lips and severe scarring. A boy in her fourth grade class had once been burned in an automobile accident, leaving his face red, swollen, and peeling.

But nothing she had seen had ever looked like this.

As Christine stared into those two dark eye sockets and the void where a nose should have been, she wasn't even aware of the mask slipping from between her fingers. The thin white lips formed into a twisted snarl, and a sound between a growl and a moan suddenly suppressed the clamor of the shattering porcelain.

Letting out a choked gasp of horror, Christine took a step backwards, realizing she was staring into an actual human face. The cheekbones that protruded from the thin, sallow flesh were real. In a moment, he had risen from the piano bench, and she could see the glow of fire in the two eye sockets. His hands tightened into claws as he approached her. His distorted expression grew angrier as he saw the look of terror upon her pallid face.

She could hear the crunch of the black porcelain beneath her feet as she continued to back away. Her captor was now standing over her at his full height, his long arms reaching out toward her in a menacing fashion.

"I'm sorry," she attempted to say, only to have the words come out as another choke.

Before she could even blink, he tightly grabbed her by the wrists and drew her up to his face. "Christine," he hissed with venom, as she attempted to wriggle away from him. "Does this delight you? Was this what you wanted?" His snarl formed into a twisted smile. " I'm sure you're happy now, Christine. You will never forget this face! You never will be able to! You will see it every day for the rest of your life! And then it will haunt every one of your dreams!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. Her wrists ached from his tight, cold grip, and to have that corpse face so near to her own was terrifying. She again attempted to struggled away and was surprised as he released her. After stumbling backward several feet, she whirled around and dashed into her room.

With a shaking hand, she turned around to shut the door behind her, only to see that he was closely following behind. Christine gasped and went all the way in, diving toward her pillow to find the sole defense she had against him. His yellow eyes were filled with murderous anguish and rage, and she wondered if everything would end right there.

Throwing back the pillow, she ran her hand over the sheet and bedspread, desperately looking for the sharp instrument. Her fingers turned up empty. Nothing was there. _Had she put it somewhere else? _

"Christine."

She turned to see him standing in her doorway. A shiver ran through her at the calm way he said her name.

"Were you looking for this, my dear child?" To her horror, Erik held the shiny letter opener up in the air. "What? Did you think you could do any more damage to Erik's poor face?"

He took a step toward her.

"No!" She shook her head and drew back. "Please. I just...Don't. I'm sorry. I didn't know! I didn't know!"

He walked so that he stood directly in front of her, and she suddenly thought that he was going to use her own weapon against her. Instead, he bent down to her eye level and held the point up to his own flesh. "Really, Christine! Why not try and see what more you can do, child?" Letting out a horrible laugh, he ran the sharp edge over his cheek.

"Don't!" she gasped. "Please don't!"

No blood came, though. The tip ran smoothly through the dead skin, making a harmless groove in the shriveled flesh. He chuckled again. "See! I do not even bleed! I am already dead, Christine! You are in the company of Death!"

Before she could run away again, he stuck the letter opener into his pocket. Taking his two bony hands, he gripped her shoulders roughly, forcing her up against the wall. She gaped as the skull face came closer, wondering if he was going to kiss her. Instead, he remained at a foot's distance, his slender fingers digging into her shoulder bones.

"Poor, Christine," he hissed. "Now you can never leave! This face will be the first thing you see when you wake every morning for the rest of your life!" The two hands moved toward each other and stopped at the base of her neck.

"I'm sorry!" she choked out. "I didn't know! Please! I'm so sorry! Don't! I'll stay! I promise I'll stay!"

The fury in his eyes suddenly calmed, and he loosened his grip on her shoulders. "Yes, Christine," he said softly. " You will stay."

She swallowed and nodded rapidly. "I will. I will."

"You see," he began with eerie calmness. "If you had controlled your curiosity, you would know nothing. Nothing! But now...I disgust you. A corpse loves you, dear Christine. You won't come back now. So I must keep you here, mustn't I?"

Christine just numbly stared back at him, exhaustion beginning to overtake her fear.

"Yes," he said. "I will keep you here with me. And then you will stay." A smile of relief crossed his lips. "Then, you will have to stay," he whispered.

He removed his hands from her shoulders and softly brushed her blonde hair with the tips of his fingers. The look of fury vanished, leaving a strange sense of peace on his withered face. Christine just continued to look at him in shock, watching as he finally turned and quickly strode out of the room.

After staring at the place where he had stood for several seconds, Christine raced over and slammed the door. For a moment, she wondered if he would return, but no sound could be heard outside of the room. Throwing herself onto the bed, she buried her face into the thick covers and began to heave with sobs.

She had never seen such horror, the gaping holes and twisted lips lingering in her mind. She had never heard such hatred and desperation in anyone's voice. Nothing could compare to what she had just witnessed.

When she finally became too exhausted to shed any more tears, Christine just lay motionlessly on the bed for hours upon hours. A feeling of hopelessness began to engulf her. The fiery fury in her captor's eyes confirmed that he would not let her go. Erik meant to keep her there forever.

Finally, she sat up on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest. Her stomach moaned in protest, and her entire body was weak from hunger and exhaustion. It suddenly occurred to her that she could become sick from lack of food or water.

Taking a breath, she got up and looked around the room as if to find a solution to the hopeless situation. There were no windows or visible ways to escape, and her eyes finally settled on the door she had not opened yet. Christine wearily walked over to it, flipped on a light switch, and found herself to be looking inside of a walk-in closet.

It certainly wasn't a means of escape, but the contents did surprise her. A large variety of clothes and accessories lay inside. Sweaters, shirts, dresses, pajamas, hats and coats were all folded on shelves or strung up on hangers. Looking at one of the unremoved tags on a turquoise turtleneck, she saw that it was exactly her size. She had no doubt that all of the clothes would be perfect fits. Erik knew every detail about her. He had been memorizing her habits and purchases for some time. For a moment, she was again horrified that she had allowed herself to get into the situation.

And then it occurred to her that she might have at least one ounce of hope left.

Although she was completely at his mercy, Erik had gone to severe extremes to make her comfortable. In his greatest moment of anger, he had announced that he loved her. His sole fear was that she would leave and not return. If she became agreeable and unafraid, maybe he would release her. If he truly loved her, would he keep her trapped in there forever?

Maybe he would. Just hours ago, she was sure that he was going to kill her. But what other choice did she have now? The only available option was to gain his trust. She would have to make him believe that she would not attempt to run away or disappear. That face...she would have to show no fear toward it. As long as Erik thought she was afraid of him, he would _never_ let her leave.

Very late that evening, after many hours of lying on the bed lost in dark thoughts, Christine decided to emerge. Hunger pangs were attacking her stomach, and her throat was parched and sore from lack of fluids. Staying in the bedroom and praying for a miracle was not a good chance for survival.

She opened the door and shakily made her way into the sitting room. Her eyes wandered to the sole exit for a moment, but she quickly brushed the thought away. If he were to catch her trying to escape, no hope would be left. Besides, it was still locked.

He was in front of her in an instant. Forcing herself not to step back, Christine warily looked up to see that a grayish mask now covered his face. It was similar to the first, except for sitting lower on his head, thereby revealing thin, dark wisps of hair. The steely glare he cast upon her made her want to turn around and run back into her room. Instead, she took a breath, keeping her gaze just below his eye level.

"I...was hungry," she said softly.

A moment of tense silence passed.

"Then come into the kitchen," was his toneless reply. She followed him and took a seat at the rectangular table. A plate, silverware, and cloth napkin had already been laid out in anticipation of her presence. He sat three silver pots in front of her with serving spoons and stepped back. After glancing up nervously, she opened the lids and drew back her head as clouds of steam rushed into the air. One contained a foreign grain, similar to couscous. The other two were mixtures of meats and vegetables and also looked to be either Middle Eastern or Oriental cuisines.

After serving herself, she again looked up to see him watching her. It dawned on her that, if Erik were to eat with her, he would have to remove the mask. She would have to show no reaction.

Erik did not join her. While she ate, he left the room. Still in shock from the ordeal, Christine couldn't even taste the food, but it was warm and soothing to her empty stomach.

As she finished the last bites, her captor stepped back into the kitchen. He seemed somewhat calmer when he saw that she had eaten most of the food. "Do you want something to drink?" he enquired, retaining his cold composure.

"Water is fine," she replied.

He nodded and set a glass in front of her before leaving again. After drinking the cold liquid and relieving her parched throat, she stood up to go to her bedroom. The tense, formal atmosphere was exhausting her. Every moment, she was waiting for something unexpected and terrible to happen. What if he decided she was no use to him? What if he grew tired of her?

She headed for her bedroom, desperate to just lie down and sleep. "Christine." His voice commanded her to turn around.

"Yes...Erik?"

"You do not need to wear those clothes every day. There are clean ones in your closet."

She nodded in complete compliance. "Okay."

He disappeared again, and she returned to her room. Without undressing, she collapsed onto the bed, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Whatever happened, happened. Like a soldier on the night after a battle, she was too tired to care.

* * *

The following morning, Christine's heart jumped as she gazed at her surroundings and remembered all that had happened. Although a part of her desired to lie back down and sleep forever, she knew such actions would bring her no closer to freedom. She got up and ran her greasy hair under the hot shower, rubbing shampoo over the matted tangles. After washing as best she could, she went to the closet and looked for something modest and unrevealing, finally putting on a blue wool sweater and loose pair of khakis. 

After brushing her hair and glancing in the hand mirror, she left the room and headed directly for the kitchen. To her slight surprise, Erik was not there. Several varieties of cereal and a bowl of fruit were set out on the kitchen table. Picking up the box of Cornflakes and an orange, she sat down and ate. The feeling of anxiety remained, but she did feel less hopeless than she had the previous evening. Her food even had some flavor.

Erik came out as she finished, and she shifted as he gazed over her entire frame. A look of satisfaction came into his eyes at seeing her clean and dressed. Perhaps he had truly believed she would remain permanently shut up in her bedroom after seeing his face. "You rarely eat much for breakfast, so I did not go to extremes. Was everything to your liking?"

She nodded and looked directly at him. "Everything was fine. Thank you."

He nodded once. Biting her lip, Christine habitually started to take her dish to the sink. "No, Christine," he stated. "You are a guest here. Leave it."

_An unwilling guest_ she thought wearily. "Okay, Erik. Thanks, then." She walked into the living room, looking around for something to do...something to keep her mind occupied. After gazing over the strange figurines again, she saw several leather-bound books on a shelf. Picking up a copy of Orwell's _1984_, she looked over the first few pages. Already deeply disturbed by the contents of the first chapter, she quickly set the book back on the shelf._ Lord of the Flies _was directly below it.

The soft laughter behind her caused her to jump. Erik stood watching her. "If you want something with a happy ending, Christine, I would avoid those books. Maybe you would enjoy a collection of fairy tales instead?" His tone seemed amused. "But then again, those can be extremely gruesome as well."

"I..." She swallowed, keeping herself steady. "I was just looking for something to read...something to do for awhile. "

"I see." He reached over and set another book in front of her, very careful to make sure she would not brush fingers with him again. "This one shouldn't give you nightmares."

Taking her eyes off of him for a moment, she looked to see a book of short stories by Anton Chekhov. "Thanks. I'll try reading it. I think I saw a play by him once."

The rest of the day was spent either in her room or on the sofa, immersing herself in daydreams or books. Only during meals would she force herself to come back to reality. Many times, she caught Erik watching her with an unreadable expression. Even when she couldn't see him, she knew that his yellow eyes were following her.

Toward the evening, she heard the piano begin to play a slow, somber tune from the bedroom. Putting down her book, Christine tiredly leaned her head back onto the headrest of the sofa, closed her eyes, and listened to the flowing melody. At least she now knew why such talent was kept so isolated. Even after everything, the haunting music still swept her mind away from her.

The third day of her stay started much the same. Christine washed, dressed, and spent the morning reading in her bedroom. He owned several colorful photographic books of foreign countries, and she lost herself in Egyptian and Japanese culture for several hours. Erik continued to watch her, asking her simple questions here and there. Although he remained composed, every so often she thought she caught a hint of desperation in his voice.

Late that afternoon, after dinner, he finally came up and stood silently in front of her. She looked up from her book and swallowed nervously.

"I wish you to sing for me," he stated. "As I have said, that is why you are here."

Her heart thudded as she remembered their last encounter at the piano, but she slowly nodded. "Okay. I'll sing. What would you like?"

"Whatever you want, Christine. I just want to hear your divine voice." His tone was gentler, giving her the needed courage to follow him back into the eerie bedroom. She avoided looking at the six-sided bed and walked directly to the piano. "I know you are familiar with this one." The first notes of her audition song, "Someone to Watch Over Me," sounded out. "We could also try a piece from your recent performance."

"Those are both fine," she quickly replied, still unnerved by how much he knew about her. "Whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing for him, sounding very shaky and off key. Erik didn't stop to correct her, as if knowing her lack of concentration was something that could not be helped. After a while, she began to improve. All of her terrible tension and fear was put into her voice, giving her a strange, new energy. Perhaps it was not the best she had ever sung, but more power emanated from her voice than ever before. At some crescendos, she feared that she would accidently scream out a note, but she managed to keep her composure. Erik seemed content with her effort.

The last note of their third song faded, and silence engulfed the room. He sat with his fingers still poised over the keys and his gaze still focused upon the piano.

Christine stood there uneasily, wishing she knew what someone like him could be thinking. A feeling of pity washed over her as she stared as the back of his suit and the protruding shoulder bones underneath the dark material. He was both terrifying and tragic...a powerful presence in an emaciated body...breathtaking talent concealed under the face of a cadaver.

When he turned around, Christine nearly stepped away, for the look in his eyes was unmistakable. He was staring at her with utter adoration. No one had ever looked at her with such longing.

But with his next words, she felt her fear fade and her heart give a jump of hope.

"Come, Christine. We will go for a short ride this evening."


	20. Chapter 20

As always, thank you for the wonderful reviews. They got you a quick update :) I'm glad everyone likes this story, despite the darker tones. Some of you have found sympathy toward Erik, and others don't seem to see too many redeeming factors. If I'm being honest, my Erik is going to be fairly level with Leroux Erik. He can be extremely dark and insane, but he does have some innocent, endearing qualities. There are plenty of fluffy E/C stories out there, and I wanted this to be different and to keep at least some of the tones of the original. I hope you enjoy it.

Secondly, I admit that I didn't follow the time of year perfectly. The story began in early October, and, looking over old chapters, I figured that about three months have passed. So the holiday atmosphere wasn't just randomly thrown in, but it was convenient. :)

**Read and Review**!

Without touching her, Erik led Christine up the steep concrete steps and into the chilly evening air. Her heart thundered as she hugged her arms to her chest for warmth, for she knew that an opportunity to run could present itself at any time. As she reached the top, she realized that time would not be soon. Broken beer bottles lined the cracked roads, and most of the street lamps were out, leaving the streets bathed in eerie shadows. Disgruntled and shady men roamed the sidewalks, holding cigarettes and leering at any woman that came into view. Christine swore she caught the glint of a knife in one man's hand. Erik's hidden apartment was a haven compared to this, and she had a better chance of surviving by staying with him.

A shiny black car suddenly pulled up in front of them and stopped. Christine couldn't tell if it was the same one she had taken to the cemetery, but the spotless windows were tinted in the same way. Erik nodded at her to get inside. Biting her lip, Christine opened the door and slid into the warm, plush interior. She saw that, like before, an opaque screen separated her from the front seat. The door beside her immediately locked. Whoever the driver was, he was clearly following Erik's exact orders.

Several seconds later, her captor climbed in on the other side, although they still remained several feet apart. The vehicle pulled forward, causing Christine to lurch back a little. She began to gaze out the window and to try to get some idea of where she was located. It certainly wasn't her quaint hometown in Vermont. Decrepit buildings lined the streets, mostly with no lights and the windows boarded up.

As the car continued on, the surroundings became more pleasant. The buildings were still older, but most were well kept and still in use. Antique stores popped up on many corners. The people that walked around appeared less menacing, likely just shoppers searching for rare items.

"I could show you this city, Christine" stated Erik, causing her to turn her head away from the window. He was sitting up straight and staring directly at her. "I could show you everything, if you'd promise not to run away. If you desired, I could allow the world to hear and adore your voice just as I do. Anything could be yours, if you would stay."

She swallowed and placed a reassuring expression on her face. "I told you that I'd stay," she softly replied. "I will stay... But I do like to go out sometimes." Christine steadied her voice, hoping to hide any of the falsity within her statement.

He nodded. "We will see. You have not always proven yourself trustworthy."

Christine winced at the cold tone. "I'm sorry," was all she knew to say.

"Yes, Christine. I imagine you are sorry after what you saw." He continued to gaze at her. His arm lifted as if he were going to touch her, but he quickly drew it back and folded his hand into a fist. "But some mistake can be forgiven...as long as trust is regained."

Christine nodded, knowing for certain that this would not be the night to run. "I'll stay, Erik. I promise."

He nodded again, and they rode in almost complete silence. She merely stared out the window at the lighted shops and restaurants, feeling melancholy at the Christmas decorations and groups of families and friends. Her heart clenched as she thought of Mrs. Valerius, lying alone in the hospital over the holidays. And what was Meg thinking about her disappearance by now? Christine turned to Erik, wondering if there was any way of convincing him to release her. The look of strange contentment in the two yellow orbs made her keep silent.

When they returned and the car came to a stop in front of the dilapidated complex, Erik again turned to look at her. "Did you enjoy it?"

She quickly nodded. "Yes. It was nice to get out for a while. Thank you."

The car door did not unlock until Erik came around to the other side and opened it. Murmuring a thank you, Christine walked ahead of him toward the steps and descended. He acted as a sort of dark wall behind her, ensuring that she would not turn around and try to escape.

As Erik unlocked the door, she noticed that it so closely matched the outside walls that the frame was practically invisible. No one would see the door unless they already knew of its existence. After stepping inside, she immediately began to head to her bedroom, feeling weary from the tension that plagued the outing.

"Christine."

She inhaled and turned around. "Yes, Erik?"

"Let's have one more song tonight. We cut our earlier lesson a little short, I believe. Unless, of course, you are too tired."

Although exhausted, Christine nodded. "No. One more song is fine."

She certainly didn't want to discourage him from taking her on any more outings. Besides, Erik was so pleased when she sang. As she stepped next to the piano and cleared her throat, Christine became aware that her anger was being replaced with a sort of sadness. For herself. And for him. A sorrow marred her voice as she sang that night.

She was still afraid, but it wasn't so much a fear that he would harm her any time soon. It was a fear of what the future held. Sadness and terror mingled together to produce an ominous despair. How could this possibly end happily?

Nevertheless, whatever she did or said that evening must have been effective in earning at least some of Erik's trust. The following evening, after another long day immersed in music and books, he again approached her. His eyes glowed with a pleasant intensity. She thought that if she could see his twisted mouth, the corners of his thin lips would be turned upward. "Another evening out?" he questioned. "You do seem to enjoy it."

A tiny but genuine smile formed on her face. "Yes. Let me get a coat."

* * *

"So are you going with us?" 

Raoul blinked several times and attempted to focus, looking up to see his two close friends staring expectantly at him from across the circular table. Over the ceiling speakers, Bobby Helms was singing "Jingle Bell Rock." The voices of holiday shoppers came from all directions, mostly people stopping for a cup of hot coffee and trying to escape the cold weather. Like every other coffee house in New York City at that time of year, the café was crowded and noisy.

"Raoul?" Kimberly Adler shook her head of thick brunette curls and laughed. "Are you awake over there?"

"Sorry," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Going where? I didn't hear you."

"We've only been discussing it for the last hour," replied Brian Welsh with a smirk. "What's on your mind tonight?"

"Nothing. Just tired, I guess. What are we taking about? Skiing?"

"Not just skiing," said Brian, taking a drink of coffee and sitting up straight. "My dad wants me to check out some of the property down in Aspen. You know...condos and plazas. He wants to buy some real estate outside of the Northeast, and Colorado is booming right now."

Kim smiled and took Brian's hand. "But I'm sure there will be some time for skiing! That's why I'm tagging along anyway."

Brian laughed and gave her a light kiss on the temple. "Always time for skiing!" He turned back to Raoul. "So you think you have some time to come with us?"

"Don't you think you'd have a better time by yourselves?" asked Raoul, looking between the enamored couple.

He'd been somewhat surprised to return from Dartmouth and find them dating. They'd all known each other for years, attending the same private schools and sharing laughs while their parents attended frilly parties and dull social gatherings. Brian's father owned millions of dollars in beachfront property and was always involved in one business venture or another. Kimberly's family was heavily into politics, a couple of her relatives even serving in the US Congress. Raoul had dated her several years back, but, after only two months, they had mutually decided they were better off as friends. Like many of the girls he had met over the years, he just hadn't been able to connect with her.

"I could sure use some help looking over things out there," said Brian with a shrug. "Besides, maybe you'll meet a girl on the slopes. It's about time you found someone."

Raoul looked to the table for a moment, suddenly becoming exhausted. A nagging feeling of concern had constantly plagued him ever since he had seen Christine disappear into the winter night with a mysterious shadow. "Nah. I think I'd better stay here for a while. You two will have a good time by yourselves."

Kim tilted her head. "Something wrong tonight? You're acting kind of stressed."

He hesitated a second. "No. I'm fine. It's just...I saw one of my old friends up in Vermont. She was acting a little strange. I guess...I'm just worried about her."

"Her?" said Brian with a grin. "So that's what's on your mind! What do you mean she was acting strange?"

"She just...wouldn't talk to me. And she didn't look that well, either. Really pale and thin compared to when we were kids."

"Aww," cooed Kimberly. "Your childhood sweetheart! I think I remember you saying something about her a while back. Kirsten? Was that her name?"

"Christine," he corrected. "Anyway...yeah. We used to be good friends. I learned to play the guitar from her dad."

Brian shrugged. "Maybe she was just busy with other things."

"Maybe. But she just disappeared all of a sudden. I couldn't even get anyone when I called her over the last several days." Raoul paused. "I guess I should have tried knocking on her door..."

"Do you think she has a boyfriend?" asked Kimberly, gently.

Raoul shook his head. "I really don't know. But she still could have talked to me. Then there was this weird thing at the cemetery." He sighed, not even knowing how to go about explaining that bizarre occurrence. He mainly just remembered being in severe pain and then waking up in the snow to see Christine's concerned face. " I'm just worried about her. That's all. "

"I'm sure she's just fine," said Brian, stretching out his arms and yawning. "Forget about her. Come to Aspen with us next month and relax a little. I'm sure you'll find _someone_ to get your mind off of her."

"I'll think about it." Raoul finished the last of his drink and set the cup down. "Phillip may want me around to help with the company."

People continued to form a long line at the front counter, and many were looking around with dismay to see that there were no vacant tables. "Deck the Halls" began to play over the speakers but was almost inaudible over the chatter of the crowd and clinking silverware. Someone left the door open too long, causing the wind to swirl napkins and straw wrappers off the tables and onto the floor.

Brian cringed as a baby began to wail. "Let's get the heck out of here. I'm starting to get a headache."

Kimberly nodded and got up from her seat. Raoul followed the couple out the café door. They looked nice together, both tall, slender, and with darker features. For a second, he paused to wonder why he hadn't found the same connection with anyone. Most of the girls he had met throughout his life had always seemed preoccupied with possessions and social events. Their lives were perfectly planned out for them, first rate colleges followed by either marriage or jobs within lucrative family businesses. It's not that they were all conceited or shallow. Kim had always been very open-minded and kind. Still, he'd never really felt like he could talk to any of them

That was what he had missed about his summers by the lake with Christine Daae. He had met her when she dropped her necklace into the water, and he had jumped in and fished it out for her. Ever since that first meeting, Raoul had found her easy to talk to. She didn't care about most possessions, and those things that she did care about, she treasured deeply. The gold necklace was a birthday present from her father, and she had admired it for hours upon hours. A wonderful listener, Christine was never judgmental or condescending. She offered advice when she could, and a smile of support when she couldn't.

_Sometimes I wish we could just run away from all of this _he had once said to her as they lay on the rocky shore of the lake, watching the orange sun make its steady descent. It had been their last summer together. _I'm tired of private school and of my parents' parties and of Phillip. We should just run away._

Christine had softly laughed. _And where would we go, Raoul? _she had asked in her bell-like voice. _I think I'd miss my dad too much._

_Yeah _he had agreed. _Your dad's great. You shouldn't run away. Sometimes I just wish I could._

She had turned to him and smiled, the light glinting off her light blonde hair and blue eyes. _I'm sure you'll be fine. But if you do run away, don't forget to come and visit me. _

He'd laughed. _I would always visit you. Just no one else. _

_Good! _She had giggled and ruffled his hair. _Then when I'm older, maybe I'll come with you. We can buy a house by the lake. And buy some horses! That would be fun!_

_Yeah! _He had peacefully lain back down with a smile. _That would be perfect. _

Of course, time had eroded all talk and thoughts of freedom. His family had stopped taking trips to Vermont after the booming stock market brought in business. He had become busy with school, trying to please his father and measure up to his older brother. Then, this last year, his dad had died of a heart attack, likely brought on by stress at work.

Seeing Christine again had been like falling back into those tranquil summers by the lake. He realized how much he had missed her smile and voice, and, now that they were both grown up, he couldn't help but feel a stronger affection for her. That is, until she had quicky pushed him away.

Stepping outside, Raoul lost his memories of the summer to the frigid air. Kimberly and Brian continued to walk hand-in-hand ahead of him, quietly murmuring to one another. Yawning, he followed them with his gloved hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking at the ground to make sure he didn't step on a patch of ice. Cars and taxis passed on the street next to him, inching by on the slick, congested streets.

"Wow!" he heard Kimberly exclaim up ahead. "That's a strange car. Is it a limo?"

Curious, he glanced up to see a long black car going by. Its tinted windows glinted under the streetlights, and the vehicle seemed to almost blend in with its darker surroundings. Raoul started to look away, stopping when he noticed that one of the back windows was rolled down halfway.

Raoul froze in his footsteps.

Strands of blonde hair flew in the wind as a head turned to look out the window. A pair of blue eyes and a familiar face gazed in his direction. As the eyes met his, they widened in shock.

"Christine!" he immediately shouted, walking as fast as he could down the sidewalk. "Christine!"

She just continued to stare at him. Someone must have said something to her, for her head immediately turned back around. As Raoul neared the vehicle, the window suddenly rolled up. The car picked up speed, passing the other ones in front of it in an almost unsafe manner.

Raoul attempted to go after it for a little ways, finally standing hopelessly as it faded off into the city traffic.

"Get out of the way!" a driver shouted behind him.

He felt someone give his arm a sharp tug from behind and realized he had been standing on the side of the street. Raoul turned to see his two friends staring at him in bewilderment.

"What the heck was that about?" asked Brian, releasing his friend's arm. "You practically ran out into the middle of the road."

"That was Christine," Raoul replied, attempting to catch his breath. He looked toward the street and watched the taillights of the dark car fade away. "That was her!"

"Man," Brian muttered, shaking his head. "You're going to get yourself killed over that girl."


	21. Chapter 21

As always, I love your feedback! I'm glad you guys enjoy the Leroux tones of the story. This chapter shows Erik in two lights. You're going to have a better hint at what Erik's past involved, although some of you have guessed it. As it was the holidays, there is also the vaguest fluff in this chapter that shows Erik's humanity a little more. Hopefully it all came out okay. Also, sorry for the length of this chapter. Just kind of came out that way :)

Happy Holidays!

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About twenty minutes into the drive, the backseat of the car had become overly warm from the constant blowing of the heater. Perhaps Erik had noticed Christine attempting to pull off the heavy coat or the gathering moisture on her brow. Nevertheless, he had called up to the front. "Open the young woman's window immediately. The heat in the back is becoming unbearable."

She had nodded her appreciation as a blast of winter air touched her cheeks and nose, and quickly brushed away the strands of hair that blew into her face. Looking outside, Christine saw that they were in a wealthier section of town. Expensive clothing stores and gift shops lined the illuminated streets, open late during the holiday seasons. Dozens of people carried paper bags and boxes down the streets as they hurried toward their cars. Parents tugged children forward, eager to get out of the cold night air and back to their warm homes.

It suddenly dawned on Christine that escape might be possible. What if she were to call out for help once the car was stopped? Maybe someone would be able to get to her in time or call the police. Side glancing Erik, she saw that his eyes were still focused upon her. Something told her that an attempt at escape would be futile, and would certainly ensure that she would never leave that strange basement apartment again.

With a sigh of defeat, she turned to look out the window. Her heart suddenly froze as she stared into the eyes of Raoul Chagny. In shock, the two friends had just looked at each other for several seconds. Then, he had started to make his way over the icy sidewalks and to the vehicle, frantically shouting her name. Out of pure instinct, she had started to call back, wondering if this might just be her chance at freedom. The deadly tension in the car made her keep silent.

"Who is that?" asked Erik, bending toward her and looking out the window. "Your _friend_!"

She quickly turned to face him, a panic beginning to rise in her throat. "Erik...just...he's just worried about me."

He ignored her and angrily commanded the driver to increase the speed and pass the other cars. Christine was nearly thrown backward as the vehicle raced forward down the icy roads. Raoul's shouts still rang in her ears. Erik sat up straight with a deadly glare in his eyes. "That boy is getting to be problematic," he hissed. "Now he knows where you are! Although I'm sure you were very happy to see him."

She swallowed and stared back at him. "Raoul is just an old friend," she stated with as much conviction as she could muster. "I haven't seen him since we were children. He's just confused because I won't talk to him. But I promise that he's just a friend."

"Oh, he would like to be much more than friends, my dear. I can see it in his eyes. But you can't be, Christine. Your allegiances are to me and your music. Do you understand?"

She again heard that hint of desperation in his icy words. "I understand, Erik," she softly replied. "He probably won't bother me anymore."

"For his sake, I hope you are right." Erik calmed down some, leaning his head back against the leather head rest and staring forward. "I imagine that you know where you are now."

Christine hesitated. She knew that Raoul lived in New York City. The dozens of stores and lighted streets further confirmed the location. But would Erik be angered by her knowledge? Would he take here somewhere else?

"Come, Christine. Surely you know by now. It really doesn't matter as I planned to tell you soon." He stared intensely at her, almost daring her to lie to him.

"New York," she answered after a moment. "New York City."

Erik nodded. "Indeed you are. It is both the ideal place to hide and the perfect place to be noticed. Faceless and nameless people walk in enormous crowds, never uttering a word to one another. No one notices your face or remembers your name. No one cares whether you are dead or alive."

Christine suddenly found herself feeling claustrophobic. What was he trying to say? That she was hopelessly trapped?

"Unless..." he continued. "Unless you awe them. Unless you give them reason to notice you."

The streets suddenly became darker, casting Christine and her companion in drifting shadows as the car rolled down the streets and into the poorer section of town. "What do you mean?" she asked, struggling to see him.

"Until you decided to pry the mask from my face, I had wonderful plans for you. I told you that I would make you shine. Did you think that I was lying? The world could hear your voice. The world would love you just as I do. Would you like that, Christine?"

She bit her lip. "I...I never really thought about it," she quietly replied. "But how? No one even knows me."

Erik laughed. "Although I may seem like a recluse in a cave, I assure you that I am well-connected. Perhaps no one ever sees me, but I am always there. I can do anything. I _would_ do anything for you."

"Oh." Christine looked at her hands. "Thank you."

"Of course, if you do not want fame, you can always sing for me alone. And after your display of careless curiosity, I am unsure of whether to share you with the world or not. How am I to know that you will return now that you have seen what lies beneath my mask? I will not lose you, Christine. Not to anyone."

His possessive words made her tense with fear and anger. Christine quickly suppressed the emotions, worried that any form of resistance could prove fatal to her freedom. "Erik. I said that I would stay. And if you let me go, I promise I'll come back." She swallowed her desperation and attempted to remain calm. "You have to believe me."

"We will see," were his only words.

Christine sighed softly and turned to look out the window. Buildings continued to pass by her, the windows dark and the doors locked up for the night. Some people still walked the streets, but most had gone home to their warm beds. Erik was right about the city. No one knew of her. No one cared what happened to her.

Staring into the dark building and alleyways, Christine suddenly felt overwhelming loneliness consume her. Even if she hadn't been kidnaped and taken to the middle of an enormous city, where would she be? Mrs. Valerius wasn't going to be around very much longer. Each time Christine had visited the hospital, her guardian had looked more gaunt and ashen. Meg was always busy with various activities and social occasions. She'd even mentioned studying abroad in Spain over the summer.

There was Raoul.

Christine smiled inwardly at the thought of her childhood friend and the times they had shared, the peaceful summer evenings and the lighthearted conversations by the lake. When she had seen him at the theater, her heart had fluttered as memories of their youth returned. She'd felt a comforting warmth when he had wrapped her in a strong embrace.

But what would Raoul Chagny ever want with a poor, shy, lonely girl who had gotten trapped in such a mess? Surely, he was constantly surrounded by beautiful and confident young women. He would probably forget her after this night.

And if there was no one else...if Erik was all she really had, then what? What would she do if he did ever release her? Live alone?

A single tear trailed down her cheek.

"Something troubles you?" Erik questioned, gazing at her in the glow of the streetlights.

"No," she whispered. "I'm fine."

* * *

Nadir Khan was not in a good mood. It wasn't just the fact that he had been sitting in a vacant hall for the last hour, waiting for someone who was supposed to have shown up thirty minutes earlier. He sneezed as the dust from the unswept linoleum floor drifted up and entered his nostrils. A pair of voices on his left caused him to glance up, but he frowned as he saw a couple of janitors pass. 

The Iranian had been in New York now for just over a week. On his first night in the city, he had purchased a room at a Holiday Inn. Realizing that he was going to be there for some time, he had caved in and found a tiny apartment toward the outskirts of the city. Property rates were so high, though, that he was beginning to wonder if he should have just stayed in the hotel room. At least it had cable television and a functional heater. His current residence had holes in the carpet and chipped paint all over the white walls. Half the kitchen appliances were about ready to fall apart, and he was just waiting for a leak to form in one of the cracked ceilings. Nadir prayed he wouldn't have to stay there long. Allah did not seem to be on his side.

After settling down into the poor excuse for a home, he had set to work on his mission. Immediately, he threw away the idea of directly searching for Erik. It would be impossible. He could, however, look for Mr. Moncharmin and Mr. Richard. That search had turned out more difficult than Nadir had thought it would be. Obviously these two men were involved in some business that wasn't quite within the boundaries of the law. They weren't convicted criminals, but they did have some strange connections.

"I bet they regret making a connection with Erik," Nadir thought with amusement. He suddenly wondered if it was possible to find out more about Erik's activities through members of the New York criminal underworld. Nadir frowned. He certainly didn't want to start meeting in dark corners with organized crime bosses. They probably didn't know much anyway. Erik usually kept his connections at a distance, nothing more than a voice on the telephone or a letter scribbled in red ink. To most of those who knew of him, Erik was merely a shadow...a shade...a ghost. The Iranian was one of a select few who knew him as a living, breathing man.

Finally, he had gotten into contact with Mr. Firmin Richard. The man had sounded tired over the phone, likely still upset over the events in Vermont. Still, he had been willing to meet with Nadir. The Iranian thought he had even detected a hint of fear in the man's voice. Unfortunately, Mr. Moncharmin was apparently on a short vacation and wouldn't be present. Nadir couldn't help but wonder if he'd skipped the country.

The Iranian eagerly looked up as he heard the rubber soles of shoes on the dusty tiles. A middle-aged man in a pressed grey suit was making his way forward with a set of keys in one hand. "Mr. Richard?" asked Nadir as he stood up.

"Mr. Khan," he greeted with a tired look in his green eyes. "Let me get the office open."

He unlocked the door, and they stepped into a small, plain office. Only a cheap mahogany desk and a pair of padded chairs sat in the room. One window allowed the dim December sunlight to seep over the furniture. The fluorescent lights flickered several times before coming on. Both men simultaneously glanced up at them in unpleasant remembrance. Mr. Richard motioned for Nadir to take a seat.

"I won't take up much of your time," Nadir stated, leaning back into the chair. After months of making enquires with various people, he was no longer nervous around strangers. "I don't come making accusations about your activities. I just want some information to prevent future...disasters."

Mr. Richard sighed and folded his wrinkled hands upon the table top. "I don't know very much, Mr. Khan. My partner and I took over the charity several months back." He paused. "We knew that it wasn't the most ethical organization in the city. But...we were desperate."

"Go on," said Nadir, with a nod of encouragement.

"We were told by the directors that there was one man who had to be compensated. Just wire him a portion of the funds, and he leaves you alone. No problems. When Mr. Moncharmin and I arrived in Vermont, though, we started receiving these threatening notes. Some of them were completely absurd. Both of us thought that it was a prank..." He sighed. "Do you know anything about this?"

"I know things," admitted Nadir. "But...nothing concerning your problems. Do you have any information on where this man is located? What part of the city?" His eyes widened. "Where do you wire the money?"

Mr. Richard shook his head. "I have no idea where he lives. Hell! I've never even seen his face or heard his name. As for the money, the number of the account changes each time. I doubt you'd find much." He paused. "Although, I believe that the former directors mentioned they had received letters from the older parts of the city. If that helps."

Nadir shrugged, feeling strangely disappointed. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Mr. Khan? Am I in any danger, or is this just some thief who happens to know a heck of a lot about electronics?"

The Iranian shook his head. "I will be honest, sir. Your friend knows about much more than electronics. It would be wise not to get on his bad side. I would comply with him for the time being."

"Comply?" Mr. Richard scoffed. "And what else can he do? He's just one man. What should I watch out for?"

"Pay him the money. Keep an eye out. And...watch your mail."

"Watch my mail?" Mr. Richard drew back. "Why?"

"Yes," said Nadir quietly, looking toward the desk. "How do they refer to it in the United States? A white powdery substance? Anything unusual."

Mr. Richard's eyes widened. "You can't be serious! He's just a common thief! An extortionist!"

Nadir shook his head in self-disgust, knowing he was already giving away more details than he had intended to. Frankly, though, he was sick of these games. He didn't want to be responsible for any more deaths or catastrophes. If he could save one life, then so be it. "Take my words as you will, Mr. Richard."

Firmin Richard sat there with a sick expression. "Then why don't we call the police? Or the FBI?"

"They can't really do much," replied Nadir, starting to stand up. "It's best to just do as he says for now. Perhaps it's time that I be going."

"But..."

Nadir walked toward the door, suddenly feeling the weight of his age. "Have a good day, Mr. Richard."

As he left the dreary office complex, he couldn't help wondering if this entire thing was hopeless. Maybe he had already failed. Maybe nothing could be done to change the looming future. Christine Daae could already be far gone.

* * *

At some point during her stay, Christine completely lost track of the date. Although Erik had a variety of clocks scattered about the house, he kept no calendars on the wall. As she awoke several days later after their last outing, she attempted to count on her fingers how long she had been down there. Christine gave up after a little while and dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh. Laying her head back upon the pillow, she gazed around the room. It didn't seem quite as eerie anymore. She had become used to the odd figurines and ornaments. 

Ever since the night she had seen Raoul, Erik had not taken her outside of the apartment. Maybe he thought that they would be discovered. Or perhaps he was afraid that she would try to get into contact with her old friend. Whatever the reason, the confinement was beginning to become maddening. Sometimes Christine feared that the walls would close in around her.

Erik was starting to converse more frequently with her, usually discussing music and occasionally books. He would play the piano for her every evening, taking requests and sometimes asking her to sing. She always obliged. Never was she in any physical discomfort, always fed and fairly warm. He continued to watch and admire her while she quietly read or looked around his home. Not once, though, had he attempted to make physical contact. Her fear was being replaced by uncertainty and anxiety, for she never knew what was to come next. Her anger had turned to pity. If she were being completely honest with herself, Christine sometimes even felt empathy for the man with a corpse's face. Loneliness was not foreign to her. And how lonely Erik must be.

After brushing her hair, which was growing longer than she usually wore it, Christine slipped on a pair of jeans and a gray sweater. She gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror for a moment, realizing how much she was beginning to miss the sun. If he would just let her outside, perhaps she would willingly return...anything just to get out for a moment.

As she emerged from her room and headed for her usual seat in the kitchen, she was surprised to see Erik immediately meet her. Usually he came out later in the morning, after she had eaten, and gave her a clipped greeting. Today, his eyes looked especially eager.

"Good morning, Erik" she said, cautiously looking up at him.

He nodded in greeting and folded his slender hands together. "I have something for you this morning," he stated. "A gift."

"A gift?" She looked around curiously but saw nothing. " Oh...thank you."

"Maybe you have forgotten what day it is, Christine," he chided with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Personally, I am really not fond of holidays. I find them pointless and false."

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" she murmured in realization. She'd been there longer than she had thought.

"Indeed it is. And I have gotten you something." Reaching into his suit pocket, Erik took out an object that glinted in the dim lighting of the room. Christine squinted to see that it was a large golden ring with an onyx stone in the center, very much like the necklace. The jewel was engraved with small spirals that caused it to glimmer even more.

"It's lovely," she replied, swallowing and shifting as she attempted to determine the meaning of the gift. She had seen wedding bands before...but surely...it wasn't...

He nodded. "It is worthy of you, I believe. And as long as you wear it, you are perfectly safe. Nothing will ever hurt you wherever you go."

She honestly couldn't tell whether his statement was meant to be comforting or a hidden threat. Frankly, she didn't want to know. "I'll wear it, then. Thank you." Christine slowly raised out her right hand, expecting him to place it into her palm. To her surprise, Erik slipped it onto her fourth finger. Although her skin lightly brushed with his cold flesh, she managed not to flinch. His eyes gleamed as he gazed down upon her, nearly the color of the golden ring.

"It fits," he calmly stated.

She nodded, feeling the jewels weight upon her finger. "Yes. It fits well. It's very nice, Erik." She knew that he was smiling beneath the mask. Sometimes it was completely overwhelming and exhausting how much he seemed to love her. At least she had made him somewhat happy that morning, though.

"What else can I get for you, Christine? A particular food? A song? I would enjoy hearing you sing today." He tilted his head. "You turn your eyes away from me. What is it that you want?"

Her gaze remained on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ring glimmer. What if he became angry by her request? Erik seemed less intense that morning than he usually did, though. Maybe there would be no better time.

"Erik." She swallowed. "My guardian...Mrs. Valerius...I haven't seen her in so long. I just want to talk to her on Christmas. I promise I won't say anything about where I am or talk very long. But I miss her." She quickly wiped a tear away. A silence followed as she waited for his response.

"You will tell no one where you are?"

"I promise I won't."

"Yes," he finally said with slight disdain. "I will permit it. She is in a poor state of health." He paused. "I will get you a phone. It is untraceable. Do not attempt to give anyone the means to contact you."

Christine nodded in appreciation and understanding. "I won't! I promise. Thank you, Erik." A wave of relief washed over her. The thought of hearing the voice of her guardian calmed her heart. And her captor was allowing her contact with the outside world. Maybe he would release her soon.

Erik returned with a small black cellular phone. It appeared to have been used very little, perhaps never. He did not appear to be very happy about the matter, but he still held it out to her.

"Thank you," she repeated. "I won't take long."

He nodded. "Stay where I am able to clearly hear you."

Christine obediently sat down upon the sofa. After dialing the operator and asking for Mrs. Valerius' hospital, she was directed through several more numbers to contact the oncology ward. Finally, she was able to get Mrs. Valerius' room number. Erik stood nearby, watching her with tense impatience.

After several rings, an unfamiliar voice finally answered.

"Hello?" Christine asked eagerly. "Is Mrs. Valerius there?"

A long hesitation followed. "She is not able to talk at the moment. May I ask who's calling?"

"It's...her granddaughter," she quickly replied, not wishing to explain. "When should I call back?"

Another hesitation. "I cannot give details over the telephone, ma'am. If you are a close relative, though, I would recommend coming as soon as possible."

"What?" whispered Christine, gripping onto the material of the armrest.

"Her health has taken a turn for the worst," replied the woman, more gently this time. "You might want to come as soon as you can. More details will be provided at that time."

"All right." Staring numbly at the ground, Christine clicked off the phone. For several seconds, she wasn't even aware of her current surroundings or companion. A nausea was slowly building in the pit of her stomach, and she suddenly felt extremely cold. The soft rustle of Erik's suit material caused her to look up. His eyes stared at her curiously, sensing something amiss.

Taking a breath, she finally spoke. "Please let me go, Erik. I promise I won't run." Her lip trembled, but she remained composed. "Please," she whispered.

The silence was deafening.


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! The support that I'm getting on this story is truly amazing. You guys are great!

This chapter was originally written to be longer, but I shortened it because the ending was either going to seem rushed or get ridiculously long. So...sorry for the cliffy. I didn't really intend it, but these things do happen. :) Secondly, this story has quite a long ways to go, so don't get concerned that we're nearing the ending after this chapter. Thanks for all your support!

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The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the serpent clock. Christine could feel her heart thunder as she waited for his answer. Although she prayed he would take mercy upon her, she also braced herself for raging anger or a cold denial of her request.

"Why?"

The calmness of the question was almost more frightening than if he had started yelling at her. Still, Christine dared to reply.

"Mrs. Valerius is very sick. I don't know everything, but...I just don't think she has much longer." She suppressed the sob in the back of her throat. "I just want to see her one last time. Please."

"It is far."

His clipped answers heightened her anxiety, but at least he had not directly refused her yet.

"Yes," she replied gently. "It is far. But Erik...I have to see her again. She's always been there for me. I promise I'll come back. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just let me go for a little while. Let me see her."

Glancing up, Christine saw that his eyes had become the intense shade of yellow again. He looked away from her as if in thought. His bony hands were folded into fists. Ten long seconds ticked by on the clock.

Finally, he turned back to her. "I have unfinished business in that state," he said slowly, as if still thinking his decision through. "I intended to wait to return, but perhaps now is as good as ever." He paused. "I will accompany you, Christine. You will make the visit to your guardian while I complete several tasks. Does that please you?"

She quickly nodded. "That's fine, Erik. Thank you! It means a lot to me."

Although her highest hope was that he would allow her to travel alone, she did not dare to make that request. He would immediately suspect her of trying to escape and refuse to let her go at all.

Was she trying to run away from him at that moment? Maybe. Her primary concern, though, was getting to Mrs. Valerius' bedside. The fact that she was even being allowed to see her guardian made her want to collapse in relief.

Erik nodded. "Yes. Perhaps this could even be beneficial. Once people see you unharmed, there will no longer be concerns about your disappearance. No one will bother us should you decide to sing for the public." He stared her directly in the eye. "But you will make no move to get away? You will do as I tell you?"

"I swear I won't run," she replied. "I promise."

"If you do, you will never leave these walls again. There will be no second chances."

"I know."

Erik studied her for a moment. "We will leave in several hours, then."

Her smile was a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Okay. Thank you."

As Christine retrieved her winter coat and gazed around the bedroom for anything else that might be needed, she was forced to stop and wonder what the day would bring. Of course, she was grateful to be going. But...if a chance of escape came, would she dare take it? What if Erik caught her before she succeeded? He would never let her go. But what if she did manage to get away?

She sighed and stared down at the glimmering ring. The day would bring choices. That much was for certain.

Shaking her head to clear away her worries, she sat down and put on a pair of tennis shoes. After adjusting the collar of her pine green turtle neck, she ran a brush through her hair and checked the mirror one last time. The routine was rather calming. For the moment, Christine decided that she would only concern herself with getting to Mrs. Valerius. If she became overly nervous with thoughts of escape, Erik would be able to sense her anxiety. She did not want to destroy her first chance at freedom.

Despite Christine's attempts to remain calm, a tension hung in the air for the rest of the morning. When she emerged from her room, Erik suggested that she eat something before they left. Her stomach was tied into a painful knot, but she nibbled on an apple to satisfy him. The yellow eyes did not leave her. She managed to remain composed.

"The ride will be here in five minutes," he finally stated.

She smiled and nodded as if everything were completely normal. After throwing the core of the apple away, she put on a heavy jacket and made her way to the locked door. Erik made no move forward, folding his arms against his chest and watching her obvious eagerness to leave. At any moment, it looked like he was going to suddenly change his mind. Christine turned, her blue eyes pleading. "Please," she said softly. "Please, Erik."

A moment of heightened tension passed.

"Let's go."

Christine sighed in relief and stepped out of the way so that he could unlock and open the door. Immediately, a gust of cold air hit her. Even from below ground, she could tell that the sky was completely overcast, making it appear more like the evening than the late morning. Erik walked in front of her, keeping a long, quick stride up the concrete steps. In one hand, he carried several papers with scribbled writing, and she could not help but wonder what his business in Vermont was. Maybe she didn't want to know. Arriving at the top, she saw that few people were outside. The wind blew paper bags and bottles down the empty streets. Several dogs barked from behind a broken wooden fence.

Christine shivered and looked at the eerie surroundings, before quickly catching up with Erik and walking to the car. He looked at her again before climbing into the vehicle, perhaps searching one last time for a trace of dishonesty on her face. She kept her eyes low and stepped into the backseat. Her heart only calmed when the car pulled forward. Immediately, her window began to fog up, and the sights outside were no longer visible. She wondered if it had somehow been done on purpose, so that she would never quite know of her exact location or the way out of the city.

With a soft sigh, Christine turned and saw that Erik was sitting upright. Wringing her hands in her lap, she tried to think of a way to ease the tense atmosphere. He could still change his mind at any time. "Is...is there any way to listen to music?" she asked.

Erik turned sharply. "Yes. A good idea." He called an order up to the concealed front. The sound of violins drifted out from the speakers, filling the car with a soft, harmonious melody. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. She leaned her head back onto the seat, already exhausted from the day.

With the windows clouded, there was nowhere to look. She felt Erik's eyes fall upon her, but she kept turned away from him, afraid that he would somehow be able to read her thoughts. As the warm air and the pleasant music surrounded her, Christine's eyelids became heavy. She fought sleep for a while, knowing that it was important to keep alert at this time. Finally, though, she was forced to give into slumber. There was nothing she could do now anyway.

* * *

Christine awoke several hours later when a bump in the road jolted the car. Sitting up slightly, she found herself to be groggy. Her head felt as though it were in a cloud, and it took several moments for her to remember where she was going. The windows were still fogged, and the car seemed even warmer than before. A piano now sounded throughout the back seat, playing quickly and in staccato style. 

"We are nearly there," stated Erik, watching her awaken.

Christine brushed her hair out of her face, feeling extremely disheveled and vulnerable. "Oh," she replied, her mouth dry from the heat. " I slept a long time, then. How...how long have we been driving?"

"Several hours."

She slowly nodded. "And how much longer?"

Erik tilted his head. "Soon, Christine. We will be there soon."

The piano reached an unexpected _forte_, causing her to shrink back. For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder if this all was some horrible trick. What if he was taking her somewhere else...somewhere farther away. Gripping the edge of the seat, Christine forced herself to calm down. All she could do was wait.

"What is wrong?" Erik questioned, perhaps noticing her mouth contorting in distress. "You look almost ill."

"I'm fine, Erik. Just a little tired. And...worried about Mrs. Valerius."

He nodded. "You will see her."

There was nothing hostile or deceitful in his statement. She relaxed her muscles and stared straight ahead, allowing the steady motion of the car to make her drowsy again. After a while, the vehicle began to make frequent turns. Finally, it began to slow down significantly, before suddenly stopping. She desperately tried to look out the window.

"We are here," he said, gazing at her. "The hospital. Just as you requested."

Her door unlocked with a sharp click. She reached out a shaking hand and started to open it. Feeling Erik's cold hand tighten around her other wrist, Christine jumped and whirled back around to face him.

"I will return in three hours." His voice was very calm. "That will give you enough time to determine the state of your guardian and, if need be, say your final goodbyes. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes. All right."

"You are safe with the ring, Christine. Never remove it from your finger." Erik paused. "If you are not out here in three hours, I will come and find you. No matter where you are."

The last statement was a clear threat. She nodded again. "I'll be here, Erik. I promise."

He released her wrist, but the icy sensation lingered on her arm. With one last glance at his masked face, Christine opened the car door, shivering from the sudden change in temperature. The sky was still a dull shade of gray. "Goodbye." She closed the door and finally separated herself from the pair of glowing eyes. Taking a breath and turning around, she saw that she was facing the entrance to the hospital.

In a daze, she opened the glass door and walked into the front lobby of the tall, brick building. The black car idled behind her for several seconds before driving away at a slow pace. Christine blinked in the bright lights and looked around at the decorated entryway. Wreaths and bells hung on several of the walls. People holding Christmas gifts for sick loved ones passed her on both sides. Soft Christmas music played over the speakers.

She was free.

No one noticed her standing there. She slowly walked forward, gazing aimlessly around the lobby. What now?

Did she run up to the front desk and frantically explain that she had just been kidnaped?

That wasn't her first reaction. For all she knew, Erik could still be somehow watching her at that very moment, ready to pounce should she try anything. If he caught her trying to escape, she might never have a chance to see Mrs. Valerius again. No. She would visit her guardian first.

Following a hospital map on the wall, she took the elevator to the oncology department on the ninth floor, struggling to keep the number of the room inside her cluttered head. A thousand things were going through her mind at that moment, and she attempted to focus on the task ahead of her. An older man in a suit and tie climbed onto the elevator at floor five. He nodded in greeting before looking over some papers in his hand. She awkwardly nodded back. So much time had passed since she'd been around anyone else.

The elevator chimed at floor nine, and she stepped off and into a hallway. Sterilization fumes immediately engulfed her nose. Plain white walls and ceilings surrounded her. Christine leaned against the plaster wall to steady herself, beginning to feel a little dizzy.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" a passing nurse asked.

Christine blinked and looked up. "Yes. I...Could you tell me where room nine twenty-seven is?"

The nurse nodded. "Go straight and then turn left. It should be a couple of doors down on your right."

"Thank you." Christine mindlessly took off in that direction, keeping her eyes focused ahead of her. She didn't want to see the sickness in the open rooms. Already, she could hear the noises of clinking hospital machines. The soft, somber murmurs of patients and visitors came from all around her.

Within a minute, she found the door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the cold, silver knob and opened it.

She almost choked when she looked inside. Mrs. Valerius lay with her eyes closed on the starched hospital sheets. Plastic tubes ran out from her hands and face, and several humming machines sat by the bedside. Her face was ashen and drawn in. Dark circles hung under her eyes, and the wrinkles seemed to have deepened. Christine sickly placed her hand to her mouth in shock, before walking toward the old woman. She swallowed and took Mrs. Valerius' hand into her own.

Her guardian's eyes opened halfway. "Christine?" she murmured.

She smiled, tears falling down her cheeks. "Yeah. It's me. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine, dear." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She paused for a long time, as if having trouble thinking. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you for a while."

"Just singing a lot," she replied, averting her eyes. "Just busy."

Mrs. Valerius attempted a weak smile. "Singing? With your new teacher? That's wonderful. You should tell your father. He will be proud."

She momentarily closed her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Yeah. I hope so."

"Is something wrong, Christine?"

"No. Nothing," she said in a choked whisper. "I just wanted to see you on Christmas."

"Oh." Mrs. Valerius' eyes became distant. "It is Christmas, isn't it? Merry Christmas." She paused. "I seem to lose track of time here."

"Yeah. I've lost track of time, too, lately."

"Yes," she replied tiredly. "We will make up for all this time when I am well. So much time..."

Christine just nodded, unable to speak anymore.

Her guardian slowly drifted off to sleep again, and Christine took a seat in a cushioned chair next to the bed. She cupped her chin in her hands and stared at the floor for a while as her mind drifted from one thing to another. The drone of the machines was the only noise in the room. At some point, the door squeaked open, and a younger nurse walked in.

"Oh!" the young woman exclaimed. "I didn't know she received visitors. I'm just going to take a couple of measurements. Then, I'll be out of your way."

Christine glanced up with a dull look in her eyes. "That's fine. I...could you tell me anything about her condition? I...don't know when I'll be able to come back. " She swallowed.

The woman smiled sympathetically. "It's a difficult time to say right now. She will have good days and bad days. At the moment, she's on extremely strong pain killers. You would have to speak with a doctor for more detailed information."

Christine nodded. "But..." She took another breath. "It won't get better? Nothing can be done?"

"You would have to speak to a doctor," she repeated. Christine could tell be the look on her face, though, that the time was near. She had seen that same look right before her father died. Today would be the day for goodbyes.

"All right."

The nurse wrote down several numbers before leaving her to her silence. Christine sighed. God knew that she would never be able to visit another hospital again. She looked helplessly at her sleeping friend for a moment, not able to bring herself to leave yet. With every second that ticked by, she knew that her chances of escaping became slimmer. She didn't know if she cared. Returning to an empty apartment almost sounded worse. _And she had promised Erik... _But did that matter? She felt completely lost.

After many minutes of just staring into space, she reluctantly rose from the chair to stretch. Her decision still loomed before her. Did she run? Did she call the police? Did she keep her promise and return? Her thoughts were interrupted by the slow opening of the door. Expecting to see another nurse walk in, Christine glanced up with disinterest. She nearly fell backward. Her hands clutched the bars of the hospital bed, as her eyes widened in shock.

"Raoul!"


	23. Chapter 23

As this chapter was already half-written, I got it out quickly. Plus, I haven't gotten that many reviews in a long time! Thank you guys so much. You inspire me to write faster. :)

As I said, we still have quite a ways to go with this story. I'm going to take a slightly original turn in the upcoming chapters, although it's going to keep fairly in line with Leroux. Both E/C and R/C are to follow and, looking at my reviews, it looks like we have people in favor of both pairings. Interesting... :)

**Read and Review!**

"Christine?"

Raoul stood beside the open door for several seconds, staring at her in disbelief. His face was bright red, and his hair and coat were soaked with melted snow, as if he had been walking outside for a significant period of time. After glancing at Mrs. Valerius, he turned back toward Christine. She quickly gathered her thoughts.

"What...what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Her friend stepped into the middle of the room, eyes still wide with shock. "I thought I saw you in New York City. I know it was you! That car drove off so fast that I thought you were in some kind of trouble. I didn't know what to think."

"But what are you doing here? How did you even...?"

Raoul shifted, looking a little embarrassed. "I was trying to find someone who might know something. I drove up here yesterday and went to your apartment. Your next door neighbor said that Mrs. Valerius was in this hospital. No one had seen you for some time. I...didn't know where else to go..."

"Oh." Her heart rate began to increase as she realized the implications of her friend's visit. What was she supposed to say to him? She was both relieved and terrified. "On Christmas? You shouldn't have."

He took a few steps toward her, reaching out a gloved hand in a comforting gesture. "I was worried, Christine. What is going on? Something's not right with you."

"I..." She shook her head and swallowed. "I'm fine. Really. Except for Mrs. Valerius, I'm fine."

"What were you doing up in New York City?" He sighed. "I just want to know why you've been acting so strangely...Even now..." He looked at her tightly folded arms. "You're shaking. What are you so afraid of?"

She paused and looked at the floor. The machines continued to murmur behind her, sending an almost ghostly noise throughout the little room. Desperately, Christine attempted to clear her cluttered mind.

What if she did tell her friend everything? Raoul would want to call the police. Either Erik would end up in jail or Raoul would end up dead. Somehow the latter sounded more likely, although Christine strangely found that she didn't want either scenario to occur. Everything was jumbled and confused. There was no solution. She knew that she couldn't let her friend get hurt, though.

A lie emerged from her quivering lips. "I'm just doing some singing in New York, actually. That's all. Just busy with that. Nothing is wrong." She put on the most cheerful tone that she could muster.

"Christine has a wonderful instructor," Mrs. Valerius suddenly murmured from the bed, causing them both to turn around. "He will make her great. Her father will be very proud!"

Raoul narrowed his eyes. "An...instructor?"

"Yes," the elderly woman said, with a distant smile. "A miracle. A voice that teaches her."

Raoul just gaped.

"No," Christine quickly interrupted, very distraught by the effect that the pain killers were having on her guardian. "I just have a voice instructor who helps me sing. That's all. I've just been busy with that."

"Oh," he replied, clearly unconvinced. "But why did you disappear so quickly? Why didn't you just tell me what was going on?"

She sighed in frustration and ran a hand through her thick hair. "Raoul! I've just been very busy. Please. Just forget about me. I'm fine. Okay?"

He wearily shook his head and looked down at the floor tiles. "All right, Christine. If you say so."

Both were silent for a moment, lost within their own somber thoughts. Mrs. Valerius soon drifted back to sleep with an expression of peace upon her withered features. A nurse peeked in, scribbled something down on a chart, and left. The machines continued to hum. People murmured in the hallways.

"So what have you been up to?" Christine softly asked, quickly checking the clock to see that she still had a fair amount of time before her _ride_ returned. She couldn't make her decision with Raoul there, yet she wasn't ready for him to leave. His familiar face was immensely comforting. Maybe pleasant conversation would ease both their minds. "Having a good holiday?"

He glanced up and nodded. "Yeah. I've just been staying in the city with my family. I...uh...I may go to Aspen next month with some friends. We'll see."

"Aspen? That should be fun." _And get him out of danger..._

"Yeah. It'll be nice to get away. It's been a while since I've skied." He paused. "You're welcome to come. We've got plenty of room."

She quickly shook her head. "Thank you. But I...I can't. I'm very busy."

"Yeah. I kind of thought you might be." Raoul silently looked toward Mrs. Valerius, and his expression softened. Christine followed his gaze.

"She's not doing too well. I'm really going to miss her. It all happened so quickly...just these past few months."

Raoul nodded. "She was a great woman. If I had known she was so sick, I would have visited sooner."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I was so occupied. I should have said something..." Christine trailed off, absentmindedly playing with the golden ring upon her finger. A hollow sensation was gathering in the pit of her stomach, a nauseating mixture of fear and sadness.

"That's a nice ring," Raoul commented, looking back toward her. "Looks almost...like a wedding ring." He eyed it closely.

Christine quickly folded her hands together so that the piece of jewelry was no longer visible. "Just a ring I've had for a while," she said quickly. "A gift from a friend."

Raoul kept his gaze on her hands, a frown forming on his face. "There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked, after another moment. "It's fine, Christine. I just wish you would be honest with me. Just tell me that you're already with someone."

She shook her head, exhaustion overtaking her entire body. "I can't explain, Raoul. Just don't ask."

"But..."

"Please," she pled. "Don't ask."

With a sigh of frustration, Raoul stepped backwards. He lingered next to the door, obviously not knowing if she wanted him to stay or not.

Christine turned away from her friend and walked back toward Mrs. Valerius. Her guardian's chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and Christine was afraid she would suddenly stop breathing altogether. The sickening feeling still sat inside of her stomach. Turning around, she again checked the clock on the wall to see that time was quickly ticking away. Forty-five minutes remained to make a decision. First, she would say her goodbye. It might very likely be her last chance.

Taking a shaky breath, Christine reached over and took Mrs. Valerius' wrinkled hand into her own. The elderly woman's eyes slowly opened and looked up at her.

"Hey!" Christine said, straining to hold back her tears. "I guess I'd better be going now."

Mrs. Valerius attempted a smile. "All right, dear," she said in a weak voice. "You come visit again, soon. I'm sure I'll be back on my feet in no time."

Christine turned her head to hide her pained expression. "Yeah," she choked out. "You'll be fine, soon. Just get lots of rest. I will...I'll try to call sometimes."

"I'll look forward to that. And you just keep singing, Christine," she replied. "You'll become a star. And I'll come see you someday."

"I will." Several tears fell, dotting the plain white sheets. "Have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she murmured. "Thank you for coming, dear." Mrs. Valerius' eyelids began to close, and she slowly drifted back into a serene sleep.

"Goodbye," whispered Christine.

She squeezed her guardian's cold hand one last time and then quickly turned to leave the room. Tears streamed freely down her pale cheeks. Her heart ached with anguish and confusion, and no coherent thoughts could pass through her mind. Everything seemed blurry and misshapen. After saying his own quick goodbye to Mrs. Valerius, Raoul followed her into the hospital corridor.

"Christine," he said, uncertainly laying a hand upon her arm. To his surprise, she whirled around and began to sob into his shoulder. He gently wrapped his arms around her shaking frame. "It's going to be okay," he said softly. "I'm here. You're going to be fine."

She shook her head in reply, continuing to softly sob.

"Whatever it is, we're going to fix it. Just tell me what's going on. Is someone hurting you?"

She allowed herself to relax into his warm embrace for a moment, laying her cheek upon his shoulder. It felt wonderful to be held. Still, troubling thoughts continued to plague her mind. "I don't think it can be fixed," she murmured. "Everything is so...so completely wrong."

"What is wrong?"

"Oh...Raoul," she murmured sickly, averting her eyes. At that moment, she almost told him everything. She wanted his reassurances. She wanted him to tell her that everything would be okay...that there would be no more pain...that they would be safe.

But what would they do? Run away? Erik would be right behind them wherever they went. She would be locked away forever, and Raoul would be killed.

_And that promise_...That promise gnawed at her constantly. Poor, desperate Erik. Why did he have to want her so much? What was so special about her that made him constantly stare at her with that overwhelming adoration...that unbearable longing? Sometimes she wanted to scream and run from those yellow eyes that constantly followed her.

And yet, her presence made him so happy that she felt almost guilty for trying to escape. She felt horrible pity for him sometimes, even a strong desire to bring him comfort from his torment. Her reassurances of return were the only things that had gotten her to the hospital that day. Erik had released her to make her happy. He wanted her to be happy. Honestly, she didn't want to hurt him.

But if she did return this time, would she be trapped with him forever?

Christine swallowed, realizing that precious seconds were continuing to pass. "Let's go downstairs."

Raoul tiredly nodded, and they took the elevator to the front lobby. Christine remained silent during the descent, attempting to find some sort of clarity. The door slid open at the bottom. She just stared out for several seconds as other people began to climb on, her eyes slowly wandering to the front desk. Raoul squeezed her hand. "Christine?"

"Maybe we would make it," she murmured, taking a slow step out of the elevator. "We have over thirty minutes left." She paused. "He'll be so angry, though. Poor Erik."

He looked at her in bewilderment. "Make it where? Who's Erik?"

She blinked, realizing that she had been speaking her thoughts aloud. As each second drifted away, her mind traveled back and forth with her decision. Maybe they could escape. But then what? Where would she go?

"Christine? Who's Erik?"

She started to reply. Then, she saw it. Just barely visible from behind the glass doors was the long, black car. It was unmistakable. It was waiting for her.

She froze, realizing that it was now too late. The decision had been made.

"I have to go, Raoul," she stated, breaking out of his hand and jogging forward.

Her friend stared after her in shock. "What? Where are you going? Christine!" He began to run after her, nearly slipping on the wet tiles.

She turned around, horrified that he would follow her out to the car. "No! Raoul. Don't come with me. I have to go!"

"What is going on with you? Christine! Stop!" He started to follow her out the glass doors. Christine whirled around again.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "I don't want to see you anymore! Leave!"

Raoul looked as if she had slapped him across the face. Finally, he stopped running and just stood staring after her in the middle of the lobby. Christine gave him a pained glance before running out the door. The cold wind slammed against her, making the tears on her cheeks seem even icier. She knew that Raoul was still watching her, but nothing could be done. The cruel words were needed to save his life.

The black car moved toward her, and the door opened with a click. Christine numbly climbed into the warm darkness of the backseat. Even without looking up, she knew that the golden eyes were upon her.

"You are very early," stated the melodious voice that she had come to know well. "Conveniently, I am, too."

She nodded. "Yes. I'm here."

Suddenly, she saw Erik's eyes dart upwards and flare. An angry growl emerged from deep within his throat. Christine turned to see Raoul come out the glass doors. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, and his disheartened gaze was focused on the ground. He didn't notice the black car, continuing to walk forward and around the corner of the building. Feeling Erik's anger, Christine turned back around to face him.

"Erik. I promise I didn't know that he would be here. He's just worried about me. But now that he knows that I'm fine, he'll leave me alone. I promise." She paused before continuing her frantic ramble. " And...and he's going away soon. To Aspen."

Erik said nothing for several moments, his deadly gaze still focused upon the window. Christine held her breath during the tense silence. Finally, he spoke.

"You are here as you promised. You returned to me. It does not matter, I suppose. Perhaps the boy will leave you alone now that he has seen you alive. He had better." She watched with relief as Erik relaxed into the seat and turned away from the window. His hands unclenched. "You returned," he repeated, more to himself than to her.

"I did," she softly replied. The car began to drive forward. Her window fogged up again.

"And your guardian?" Erik enquired. "How was she?"

Christine bit her lip as the painful memory came back. "She's not doing very well. At least she's comfortable, though." She sighed sadly. "I...I said goodbye."

Erik nodded. "You will miss her. I know that she has been good to you. But you will not be alone without her, Christine. You will never be alone again."

Christine wearily looked up at him, allowing the golden eyes to momentarily hypnotize her. "I know," she replied.

"Good."

Closing her eyes in exhaustion, she allowed her mind to wander back to the past hour. Why had she hesitated so long to run? Was she just a little girl, afraid to make choices? Or maybe Erik had been there the whole time...watching...waiting... Maybe she never had a choice in the first place.

Oddly, she wasn't upset or frightened. Christine was resigned...peacefully resigned to her current fate. She didn't have to run from anything. The decision had been made for her. If she wanted to escape, she would have to wait for another day. Right now, though, she just wanted to sleep...to escape from reality.

Her eyelids momentarily fluttered open to see that he was still watching her. Turning her head, Christine closed them again. As she drifted into a slumber, she thought she heard Erik's voice. The whisper was just barely audible over the hum of the car.

"My Christine."

* * *

**Author's Note: This chapter was not supposed to coincide with Apollo's Lyre, as some of you understandably thought. It's more of a combination between the Masquerade and the scene at Mamma Valerius' flat. Although, I will probably also have another chapter that is more like Masquerade.**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	24. Chapter 24

If it wasn't for all your support, this chapter would have taken a lot longer to come out. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I do have most of the story planned, but sometimes the details are difficult to work out.

This chapter also jumps around in time a little, but I think you'll be able to tell when the two different scenes are happening. If it is unclear, please tell me, and I'll try to fix it.

**Read and Review!**

Drops of icy water steadily leaked down from the jagged cracks in the ceiling, landing into the plastic bucket with a dull thud. Nadir wearily looked toward the grating sound, rubbing his temples in frustration and exhaustion. A gust of cold wind swept against the walls of the apartment, slamming the drops of cold rain into the windows and suppressing any heat that had managed to get through the broken vents. He would have killed to be back under the hot sun of his own country at that moment.

Over a week had passed since his arrival, and the Iranian had found absolutely nothing. He had scanned the crowded streets of New York City for hours upon hours. He had contacted men from the highest levels of society to the drunken lowlifes that made up the criminal underworld. Few people knew anything of interest. Those that did have information refused to speak, rushing off the phone in a matter of seconds. If Erik had any power, he certainly had learned to rule with an invisible hand.

What worried Nadir even more was that he had heard nothing of Christine Daae. He had finally discovered the number of her apartment, but no one had been home during the dozens of times that he had called. She supposedly lived with an elderly lady, but Nadir had no idea of where the woman was.

Several times, he had considered calling the police and allowing professionals to handle the matter. Nadir wondered if he would be putting Ms. Daae into more danger by doing so, and he doubted that the authorities would be able to find much anyway. Assuming that Ms. Daae was still alive, Erik would pull a vanishing act the second he found out that the police were involved. For now, Nadir convinced himself that it was best to keep the situation as calm as possible.

Looking back to that night, Nadir didn't remember why he had left his cellular phone on. Few people had access to the number, and he certainly wasn't expecting any calls or messages. Perhaps he had clicked it on to check the time, as many of the appliance clocks were broken. Nevertheless, the phone rang at around ten p.m., abruptly startling him away from his newspaper. Nadir jumped out of the chair and answered it, expecting someone who had the wrong number. "Hello?"

"Good evening, friend."

Nadir froze. Even after all these years, that damned voice still caused a chill to travel up his spine. Although he had no idea how Erik had discovered the phone number, Nadir really wasn't surprised. Such accomplishments were trivial tasks for his masked friend.

"Erik," the Iranian replied, keeping his voice calm.

"You really should have consulted me about real estate in this city, my friend. Your new home is rather atrocious. Tell me, do the rats climb in through all the cracks in those cheap walls? You must at least see a couple of mice per day." Erik chuckled, obviously amused with the fact that he knew the exact location of Nadir's residence.

The Iranian swallowed but remained composed. "Erik," he repeated. "Where the hell are you? Where is that poor girl? You have got to release her. This is kidnaping!"

"I do not have to do anything. And you, Nadir, are not placing yourself into the best of situations by making such demands. You know nothing of what is going on!" A vibrant energy sounded from Erik's voice, mingling with the normal tone of cold indifference.

Nadir took a slow seat on the sofa, not knowing what to make of the situation. "Is she even still alive?" he asked, keeping calm even though he dreaded the answer.

"How dare you ask that!" hissed Erik. "I would never hurt her! Ever." His voice suddenly changed. "You see, Nadir, everything is perfect. She is completely wonderful! She returned to me!"

"What?"

"Christine didn't run when she was able to. She returned to me! Even after she had seen my face! And I love her. And she will soon love me!"

Nadir was silent for a moment. He had never heard Erik sound so strangely excited over another human being...almost desperate. The Iranian took a deep breath, not knowing how to go about this without risking his life. "My friend," he slowly began. "You need to release her. If I'm going to believe you, I want to see Ms. Daae free and out of your company."

"I don't have to prove _anything_ to you!" he retorted with a growl. "But soon you will see Christine, along with the rest of the unworthy world. And you will see how free she is. Then, after she has sung in her divine voice, she will always willingly return to me. Because she loves me."

"Erik. I want to see that girl now. I want some proof that she is alive, and then I want you to release her."

"Patience, Nadir. You are in no position to give me orders. But I promise that you will see her in time. After that, I expect you to leave this country."

The Iranian paused, knowing that he was going to get nowhere asking about Christine. He would wait and see if Erik's promise held true. Other questions had to be asked before the conversation ended, and his masked friend wasn't one to talk for long. "All right, Erik. All right. But now to other matters. That stuff is still missing. It's been gone ever since you left the region. Where is it?"

Erik chuckled. "Always back to this, Nadir? As I have told you repeatedly, I do not know. And I do not care. Quit asking me."

Now, Nadir became angry, gripping onto the worn armrest of the sofa with his free hand. "You had better care where it is! You created half of it!"

"Ah! But I was rarely the one to disperse it into the air, my friend. I merely made it. What others chose to do with it was really none of my concern."

"You will never take responsibility for anything, will you? You will never change!"

"And you knew that when you snuck me onto that refugee helicopter, didn't you, Nadir?" asked Erik, his voice slightly distant. "I sometimes wonder why you chose to save my life."

Nadir sighed in frustration. "I saved your life because I thought you could do some good once you were out of that damned region. You turned those viruses into weapons! I thought maybe you would have the genius to cure them, too. I had hope for your brilliance, Erik. Maybe I was wrong."

A silence passed, and Nadir was afraid that the line had been disconnected. He shivered, wondering if he had gone too far that time.

"I fear that you are wrong. Why would you ever think that I would have any interest in saving human kind? No, Nadir. I have only one concern at this moment. One purpose. My past in your godforsaken country is long behind me. I prefer to forget it. "

"Where are the germs, Erik? The chemicals? I swear that some of those creations came directly out of hell. If you don't tell me, I will call the authorities. And that girl...I want immediate proof that she's alive. No more games. This is going to end."

"For the very last time, I do not know where they are. Some crazed faction has likely gotten its hands on them by now. And furthermore..." His voice became quiet and deadly. "You will stay away from Christine, my friend. If you get in the way of our love, I will come after you. Nothing will stand in the way of our happiness!"

Nadir started to reply when he heard a voice on the other end. A pretty, female voice. He couldn't discern her exact words, but it sounded like she was asking a question. The Iranian felt a slight wave of relief pass over him. At least he now knew for certain that she was alive.

Erik spoke back to her, quickly taking on a gentler voice. "Of course, Christine. You can have anything you wish for." He must have placed his hand over the receiver, for Nadir couldn't hear what else was said.

Erik returned after several moments, his tone light again. "She is very well mannered. And I would give her anything, Nadir. Anything. If only you could see our happiness."

"Erik," said the Iranian, softly. "Please stop this madness. I am begging you."

"I am doing nothing wrong!" he rasped. "This conversation has lasted far longer than it was ever meant to. If you try to interfere, you will not get far. Leave this city. That is my final warning to you. "

"Erik..." he began again. The phone clicked off, though, leaving the hollow sound of the dial tone ringing in his ear. Nadir quickly checked the caller identification but was not surprised to find that the number was untraceable. He wearily rubbed a hand over his face and laid the phone down onto the seat cushion next to him.

After a moment of staring into space, Nadir picked his newspaper up again, having nothing to do but resume waiting for whatever was to come. Somehow, even the dismal news was less troubling than the events going on around him.

* * *

The day at the hospital had completely drained Christine of her energy. She had slept throughout the entire car ride back to the city, only awaking when she felt the vehicle jolt to a stop at its destination. Strange thoughts and dreams plagued her mind throughout her slumber, but she couldn't remember the details when she awoke. 

A gust of cold air hit her as Erik opened her car door, and she slowly climbed out onto the dark, decrepit streets. In an exhausted trance, Christine walked toward the steps and began downward, Erik's footsteps always behind her. He said nothing the entire time, appearing to be lost in his own thoughts. When she stumbled over a crack halfway down, she swore she felt one of his cold hands touch her shoulder to steady her. Regaining her balance, Christine quickly continued downward and waited for Erik to unlock the door.

Stepping into the heated air of the basement apartment, she blinked tiredly as Erik turned on the lights. Christine avoided thinking about the fact that she had just returned to the gilded prison without a struggle. At the moment, she was warm and comfortable. A bed awaited her in the other room, and no decisions had to be faced. Despite her situation, there was no reason to be terrified at the moment.

"You are tired," stated Erik from behind her, obviously noticing her pale features as he turned to lock the door.

Christine nodded, her eyes widening slightly when she saw that it was only a little after eight. It felt like the middle of the night. "Yes. I...I'm going to sleep now." She began to make her way to her bedroom.

"Wait, Christine." She turned around at his soft command. "I want to discuss something with you. As I've told you many times, my plan was always to display your voice for the world to hear. I wish to make you known to all. Would you like that, Christine? The choice is yours." He stared at her intensely.

"To sing? Professionally?" Her eyes drifted to the floor. "I never thought about it. I never...I'm not really good enough."

"Never say that!" he exclaimed, causing her to jump. His voice softened. "You can go as far as you wish, Christine. All you have to do is ask. Now that you have come back to me, I know that you will always return."

Christine hesitated, almost too tired to think clearly. He was offering her fame? Either Erik was lying, or he had more power than she had imagined. But did she want it? Her mind drifted back to the applause that she had received after her last performance, and a small smile graced her lips. It had felt wonderful to be loved by an entire room of people. Mrs. Valerius and her father would have wanted it for her.

She bit her lip, quickly remembering her current situation. If she were to sing in public, Erik would obviously have to let her back out again. The opportunity would also be another possible chance at freedom.

The answer seemed obvious, no matter which trek her mind took. "Yes, Erik," she finally stated. "I would like that. Thank you."

Christine could tell that he was smiling beneath the mask. "Very well, then. You will have it. All you must do is sing. I will take care of everything. And then, we will show them all, Christine." He clasped his hands together, staring at her in a way that made her heart quicken.

She nodded. "All right. I'll do my best. But I don't know if I can..."

"No more doubts," he interrupted. "You will stun and amaze them. Your voice is a piece of heaven."

Her gaze fell back to the carpeted floor. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Go to sleep now," he said, softly. "You have had a long, difficult day. We will begin practicing tomorrow."

Christine nodded. "Goodnight." She quickly made her way to the bedroom before he could call to her again, shutting the door tightly behind her. The warm bed seemed to beckon her toward it. Without another thought, Christine laid down fully dressed atop the plush comforter, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

It was only a couple hours later when she awoke to a pounding headache and Erik's indiscernible voice outside of her bedroom. Placing a cool hand to her throbbing temple, she squinted in the darkness and listened. Outside of the driver, she had never heard Erik converse with anyone. As the migraine became worse, Christine slowly got up from the bed and opened her door, letting a triangle of light into her dark bedroom. Erik's voice became louder, almost angry at some points.

She emerged to see him in the sitting room, standing upright with the phone to his ear and his masked face toward the wall. His other hand was clenched into a tight fist.

"I do not know where they are!" Christine barely heard him say. At least, she thought she did. Her head was aching so terribly that everything seemed garbled. As her curiosity got the better of her, she made her way closer. His voice was quiet for a moment, followed by another sudden outburst. "Nothing will stand in the way of our happiness!" Her eyes widened at the vehement phrase.

Erik immediately sensed her presence and turned. She froze, wondering if he would be angry at her eavesdropping. Instead, the anger in his glowing eyes lessened and his hand unclenched. He removed the phone from his ear and looked at her curiously.

"I..." She stuttered for a moment. Her pounding head gave her an excuse. "I have a headache. Can I have some aspirin?"

He tilted his head. "Of course, Christine. You can have anything you wish for. It's in the kitchen cabinet on your right. Would you like me to show you?"

"No," she softly replied. "I'll find it. Thank you."

"Would you like a cool compress?"

"No. I'll be fine. Goodnight, Erik."

He watched her until she had left the room. Christine was far out of hearing range by the time Erik resumed his quiet conversation. As she took the white pill with a glass of water, questions raced through her mind. Who was Erik talking to? Why was he so angry? She realized that Erik had some kind of past. He wasn't a random man who had kidnaped her off the streets. There was more to him, even outside of his obvious musical genius. It frightened and intrigued her.

The room was quiet as she headed back to bed and shut her door. Erik had retreated into his own chambers, and Christine even thought she heard the piano softly playing from behind the thin walls. She laid back down on the bed for a moment, before quickly deciding that sleep wasn't coming back so easily.

Christine stared around the dim room and allowed the memories of the day to return to her. In some ways, she was horrified that she was in the same situation she had been in that morning. She hadn't even tried to attain freedom, almost feeling relief when the black car had driven up to the doors of the hospital. At the same time, the bedroom was dark, warm, and eerily peaceful...a stark contrast to the cold and loneliness outside. She felt oddly safe and protected there.

But she had to find some way to escape, didn't she? She couldn't stay like this forever.

Her mind drifted to Raoul, and Christine cringed in regret. He had been one of her last connections to the outside world. Now, he would be going thousands of miles away, thinking that she hated him. Once he was gone and Mrs. Valerius had passed on, she would have no one...but Erik.

A feeling of panic raced through her. She had to contact Raoul again, at least to make him understand that she didn't hate him. While she didn't want to put her friend into danger, Christine didn't want him to disappear from her life, either. Maybe, if Erik let her out again, she could mail Raoul a letter. Hadn't there been a post office box down the street? Or maybe she could find a payphone and phonebook. She at least had to try. Maybe a letter would be safest.

Slowly, Christine dug out a pen and a piece of florally decorated stationary from one of the dresser drawers. She stared at the blank sheet for several seconds before starting to write. Only a dim lamp lit the room, but she didn't want Erik to know that she was awake. God forbid he discover what she was doing.

Dear Raoul,

_First, I wanted to say I'm sorry for what I last said to you. I promise that I didn't mean it. You have to understand that things are very difficult right now. I can't explain everything here. _

Christine stopped writing and stared down at the letter with dismay. Her words sounded as confused as she felt. Feeling her head continue to pound, she left her room to get another aspirin. Maybe it would be best to just take the entire bottle back to her room. She hadn't had a headache this bad since the car accident.

Expecting Erik to still be in his room, she casually padded back into the lighted kitchen. Entering, she found him quickly adjusting the mask back onto his face. A plate of food sat in front of him, likely leftovers from the day before. She blinked in surprise, nearly stepping backward. "I just needed another aspirin."

"Are you hungry?" he enquired, motioning toward the kitchen. "You did not eat dinner." He started to rise from his seat, his yellow eyes never leaving her.

"No!" she quickly stated, knowing she was interrupting his meal. "I'm going back to bed. I'm exhausted."

Erik nodded, continuing to closely watch her. "If you're sure."

"I'm fine. Just tired."Christine took the capsule with a glass of water, nodded her goodnight, and returned to bed. As she headed back into her room, she realized that she had never seen Erik eat. He ate after she went to bed, so that...so that she would not have to see his face.

Reentering her room, she saw that the letter to Raoul still lay atop her sheets. With a sigh, she tucked the unfinished note far into the back of a drawer and placed the pen on a night stand. Laying back down, Christine stared up toward the ceiling. Her headache slowly started to fade, leaving her to her thoughts.

It was three hours later when she finally went back to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

This chapter is, dare I say it, a little more to the softer side at some points. As romance is my secondary genre, I'd always planned to introduce it sooner or later. I think most of you will appreciate it, as it's of the subtler variety. For those who are enjoying the suspense, there will always be plenty of that. The story will forever keep its darker tone. I'm afraid that saying anything else would be giving too much away :) Hope you enjoy! As always, thanks for your wonderful support!

**Read and Review!**

After eating a light breakfast of cereal, Christine spent the following morning on a leather sofa, flipping through a large book of Renaissance paintings. The sleepless night had left her drained, and the vivid colors bled together in front of her tired eyes. Although the intense headache had passed, she still felt a lingering throb in her temples. The hundreds of thoughts racing through her mind made her current state even worse. Worries over Raoul meshed with a strange desire to please and console Erik. Thoughts of escape competed with curiosity as to her anticipated singing career. Fear fought with intrigue, and anxiety battled with a sort of vague peacefulness.

Although Christine knew he was awake, Erik had not emerged from his room all morning. The piano played a somber melody at one point, which was followed by a lively piece with a quicker tempo. Christine swore she heard his voice several times, speaking in a hushed whisper over what she presumed to be the phone. She refrained from eavesdropping, for Erik always seemed to sense her nearness. Sometimes, he almost seemed superhuman.

Christine flinched as she heard his angry voice from the bedroom, grateful that he had not used that tone with her in some time. "They will comply," he stated with dangerous certainty. His voice faded again, leaving her unsurely gazing toward the closed door. Suppressing her building curiosity, she twirled a strand of blonde hair on her index finger and looked blankly back to the book. A large printing of _The Last Supper _lay in front of her, and she idly admired the intricate details of the apostles around the table.

She slightly turned her head as the door finally clicked open, knowing that Erik was coming up behind her. Although his footsteps were silent, she could almost feel his strange presence approaching her.

"I had forgotten I owned that book," Erik stated, hovering over her and glancing down to the painting. "That style often bored me, although Judas' expression is rather memorable."

Christine tensed for a moment, wondering if he was hinting at something. _Surely he could not know about the letter..._

Erik shrugged and walked around the sofa to face her. To her relief, she could see no malice in his eyes. "Did you sleep well?" he enquired with genuine interest. "Has your headache passed?"

She quickly nodded. "Yes. I feel fine now. Yesterday...was just exhausting"

"I imagine it would have been. But it is good that your health has improved. We will begin rehearsing soon." His eyes intensified with excitement. "I believe that I have secured your first performance. Only... minor details must still be worked out."

"Really?" she asked, quickly placing the heavy book to the side. Her heart quickened. "When is it? Where?"

He smiled behind the mask. "I see you are excited. Excellent. There is an award's banquet next week, mostly for local entertainment and such. Some well-known directors and producers will be attending, however, as they enjoy throwing their names around and mingling as often as possible. Entertainment will be provided at the event, of which you will be a short part of."

"But..." She averted her eyes to the ground. "That's such a large jump. I don't think I'm ready for that. I..."

"Christine. I have repeatedly told you to refrain from doubting yourself. You are more than ready. Do not worry about impressing these people. Most of them are asinine idiots, merely there to congratulate each other on their pointless accomplishments. Still, you will be required to expose yourself to such people. And they will love you, Christine. I guarantee they will adore you."

"All right," she softly agreed, although a tension was already building inside of her. "I'll do it. You'll...prepare me for it?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, clasping his bony hands together. "You will be perfectly prepared. Do not worry about such things."

Christine hesitated but kept eye contact. "Where is it?"

Erik indifferently waved his hand to the side. "The ballroom of a hotel somewhere. The Sheraton, I believe? Nowhere of any great importance." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a white card. "Here is an invitation."

She slowly took it from him and looked down, frowning slightly as she saw that it was addressed to an unfamiliar name. _How had he managed to get this? _The white placard was trimmed with gold, and the writing was done in ornate calligraphy. "It's in a week," she murmured.

"Which will give us plenty of time to prepare," he replied. "I would begin our practices immediately, but there is some business that I must attend to first. This evening, I must run a brief errand. I would prefer if you accompanied me."

Christine eagerly nodded, knowing she didn't have much choice in the matter anyway. "Yes. I'd like to get out for a while."

"Very good, then." Erik studied her a moment longer, and she uncomfortably looked away from his gaze. With a short nod, he returned to his room again and closed the door. The piano rang out from behind the walls.

An odd feeling settled in the pit of Christine's stomach. She brushed the sensation away and forced herself to focus. Another chance of escape was slowly presenting itself. Still, she didn't know her way around the enormous city. Trying to find her way out would be impossible and dangerous. Guilt also encompassed her. Erik was generously handing her a dream that some people would do anything to obtain. The incredibility of it was not lost to her.

Christine sighed, realizing she didn't want to run away at that moment. For the first time, she consciously admitted to herself that escape wasn't her first priority. Maybe it wasn't practical, but she wanted this chance. And Erik wanted it for her.

Besides, she didn't even know if escape from him was possible. The risk of being caught seemed a thousand times more terrible than staying where she was.

Christine closed her eyes in thought. Even if she wasn't ready to run away, she desperately wanted to meet with Raoul before he left. He was the only one who had any idea of where she was, really her only anchor to the rest of the world. Seeing him at the hospital had been an enormous comfort. Maybe meeting with him again would help her to clear her jumbled mind. Lost among the dinner crowds at the hotel, they would not be noticed by anyone if they met before or after her performance. It might be her last chance to speak to him before he departed for Aspen, even if she could only give him the most scant details of her situation.

With a swallow, she quickly strode back into her bedroom and shut the door, taking one last glance around the sitting room to ensure that Erik wasn't watching. Christine opened the drawer of her night stand and took out the folded letter. Picking up the pen, she looked down at her earlier words. They still sounded confused. She quickly tore the letter into several pieces and stuffed the shreds of paper into a drawer. Taking out a second sheet of floral stationary, she wrote another message.

Dear Raoul,

_First, I wanted to apologize for what I last said to you. The words weren't true, but I wasn't able to explain at that time. I really want to see you before you leave. Meet me next Friday on January 2 at the Sheraton lobby. There will be a banquet of some kind, but please stay out of sight. I'll come find you when I can. _

_Your friend,_

Christine

She copied the address and time from the fancy invitation onto the bottom of the letter. Hands shaking and one eye always on the closed door, Christine stuffed the note into an envelope and sealed it. Her heart beat rapidly, and her palms were sweaty. Several times, she reconsidered the dangerous actions. How else would she ever see her friend again, though? Raoul was her last connection.

Putting her old Vermont street number as the return address, Christine realized that she still needed Raoul's address. The task was becoming more and more daunting. Somehow, she would have to procure a phonebook _and_ find a post office box. She didn't even know if Erik would allow her out of the car that evening.

Christine looked down at the sealed envelope. She would simply have to tuck the letter inside of her thick winter coat and see if any opportunities presented themselves. Risking her freedom to mail the letter would be foolish. Maybe fate would cut her a break that night, though.

* * *

Throughout the entire car ride that evening, Christine was edgy. The sharp corner of the manila envelope was constantly poking her in the stomach, and she was always glancing down to make sure that it hadn't emerged from beneath her coat. Fortunately, Erik took little notice of her mannerisms, occasionally making comments about the city or her career. He pointed out some of the buildings and parks, seeming more at ease than he usually was. 

As he spoke in a pleasant tone, a heavy feeling of guilt continued to weigh down upon her. But it wasn't as if she was trying to escape. She just wanted to see her friend_. And Erik was the one who had kidnaped her! _Christine wearily gazed out the window at the looming buildings and rows of shops. The winter sun had almost set, and all the streetlights had now come on. A crescent moon shown down from the sky, its glow breaking through the lights of the city. Patches of snow dusted the streets and sidewalks.

"Someday you will get a tour," Erik stated, watching her gaze out the window. "Although I have grown rather bored with the area, I imagine it is still stunning to you. Your little northern town wasn't exactly the center of activity."

She looked up and weakly smiled. "I would like to see more of it. It's enormous. I've always wanted to visit, but...we never really had the money to travel much."

Erik nodded. "It has been a sort of haven in more than one way. Getting lost within the crowds is certainly no difficult task." He paused. "The city can be a very desolate place, too."

Christine craned her neck and looked out at some of the tall apartment complexes. Windows were lighting up as people returned home for the evening. So many people... "I guess it would get kind of lonely," she murmured. "If you didn't know anyone."

"Indeed it would," he softly replied, gazing at her in that strange way. "If you had no one."

She bit her lip and shifted, almost wincing as the envelope corner jabbed her in the ribs again. Before Christine could think of a reply, the car suddenly swerved into the entrance of an office complex. Most of the lights were still on, and the silhouettes of employees milled about through the curtained windows. Squinting in the dim light, Christine thought she saw a sign say something about studio offices. The car pulled off to the side and into a patch of darkness away from the street lamps. Still, they were not that far from the entrance.

Through the glass doors and windows of the building complex, Christine could vaguely make out an office of some kind. A receptionist sat at the front, her attention focused downward. They would almost definitely have a telephone book and post office box. The distance up the sidewalk and to the front doors was not far, mere meters. Her heart pounded, and she swallowed.

"I will return shortly," Erik stated, opening his door. "No more than thirty minutes. Instruct the driver to turn down the heat if you become too warm. You may also listen to music."

"Wait!" she exclaimed, more loudly and eagerly than she meant to. Erik turned and gazed at her in obvious surprise. "I...I feel a little funny from the drive. My headache has come back. Could I go into the restroom? I'll come right back to the car. I promise."

Erik stared at her for a moment. "You are ill?" he asked with concern. "Do you need to return?"

"No, Erik. I think I'll be fine. I...just need to get out for a moment. Maybe the fresh air will help." Another pang of guilt ran through her.

He slowly nodded. "Very well. Do not make yourself noticed. I will return soon."

"I'll be here when you get back," she replied, feeling relief overtake her. "I promise."

Erik nodded again and was gone within an instant, disappearing into the deep shadows that lined the building. As far as Christine could see, he had not entered through the front doors. He was simply gone.

Pulling the handle of her side door, Christine found it to be unlocked. Stepping out of the car, she walked quickly up the dark sidewalk and to the lighted front doors, clutching her stomach just for effect. Although she didn't think that Erik would be watching, one could never be sure. Her eyes darted around nervously.

Walking into the building, she quickly glanced around. The receptionist sat typing at a computer and paid her no attention. Various artificial plants lined the sides of the office, and the walls were cluttered with posters announcing upcoming performances and auditions. To Christine's relief, a phonebook and payphone sat in a nook inside of the wall.

Dashing over, she opened the White Pages, flipped to the C's, and began scanning the long list of names with her index finger. Chaffrey. Chafon. Chaggs. Chaines. She swallowed and checked again. Raoul wasn't listed. Maybe it really wasn't a surprise, considering the number of people who would attempt to get money out of the wealthy family.

Christine thought for a moment, wondering if she should give up and return to the car while she still could. Another idea suddenly occurred to her. Picking up the book of yellow pages, she quickly flipped to the investment and brokerage section. Right in front of her was the headquarters of the Chagny firm, accompanied by a giant advertisement. If she sent the letter there, maybe it would find its way to Phillip. Surely, he would give it to his younger brother. Christine hesitated, knowing that it was a long shot...but it was her only shot.

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the chained pen by the telephone and took the envelope out from beneath her coat. As quickly as possible, she addressed the letter to the firm and rushed over to the front desk. The elderly receptionist glanced up and eyed her over a pair of thick glasses. "Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked in a nasally voice.

Christine swallowed and clutched the envelope. "I...Would you mind mailing this for me? Or is there a post office box somewhere?"

The lady looked at the letter. "There's one next to the door. But you're going to need a stamp before that gets anywhere."

Christine froze. _How could she have been so stupid?_ "Oh. I...don't have one," she murmured. A look of distress twisted her features.

"Do you have thirty-nine cents?" the woman asked, obviously seeing her dismayed expression. "I have some stamps up here."

She shook her head. "No. I don't have any money. I...it's kind of an emergency. I have to get this out today. Please."

The receptionist tilted her head. "All right. I'll do it for you." She squinted. "You look a little sick, ma'am. Is everything all right?"

Christine nodded, worried about the time that was quickly passing by. "I'm fine. Just...thank you for doing this. Thank you so much!"

The receptionist nodded and took the letter. "All right. Have a good evening."

"You, too. Thanks again!" Christine raced out the doors and into the cold night air, ignoring the odd look that the receptionist gave her. It was done. Whatever happened now was in fate's hands. Opening the door of the black vehicle, she scooted inside and saw that he hadn't returned. Her door locked again, and she relaxed under the warmth of the heater.

Erik appeared about ten minutes later, quickly opening the door and climbing inside. He leaned back into the seat as the car pulled forward. "That went surprisingly well," he stated, although she couldn't tell if he was talking to her or himself. A malicious glint shone from his eyes, and Christine couldn't help wondering what he had just done in there. "Everything has been arranged for your performance. All you must do now is sing."

She weakly smiled, feeling relieved that he knew nothing of her visit inside. "Great. Thank you...for all of this, Erik."

His eyes glowed. "Of course, Christine." He turned to face her. "Are you still ill?"

"No," she quickly responded, wringing her hands. "I feel fine now. The fresh air helped."

"Very good, then." Erik turned to the front. "Let us have some music," he called. "Mozart, maybe."

A light-hearted classical composition soon filled the backseat. Erik relaxed again, his head slightly tilted back onto the headrest. Christine leaned back as well, listening to the soft sound of the piano and staring out into the night. She felt oddly at peace as well. Was it because she had safely gotten the letter delivered? That was certainly a part of it. But also, a calmness had come over her, a strange feeling of belonging. Or perhaps she had simply run out of adrenaline.

They arrived back in what seemed like a short time. Christine almost didn't want to leave the serene atmosphere of the car, reluctantly opening her door and stepping outside. Erik walked ahead of her this time, keeping a quick but relaxed stride. She followed, always eager to get away from the decrepit streets. Had Erik's home not been so well hidden, she would have feared someone breaking into it.

Entering, she brushed her windblown hair out of her face and began to make her way back to the bedroom. The stress over the letter had started to bring back the headache. "Wait," he softly commanded.

She turned. "Yes, Erik?"

"Although it is too late to rehearse, perhaps you could begin choosing a song. There is a variety that would suit you." He disappeared for a second and returned with a stack of music sheets in his hand. "You may glance at them and decide before tomorrow."

Christine slowly reached out and took them from him. Looking down, she saw a wide variety of songs... from simpler arias, to Broadway tunes, to hymns. Most of them were familiar and did indeed match her voice. "Thank you. I'll look through them tonight." She looked up to see the yellow orbs still gazing at her. Christine's face grew uncomfortably warm. Several of the music sheets fell from her trembling hand, floating down onto the floor. "Oh!" She bent down and quickly picked them up, her cheeks still tingling. "I guess I'm tired tonight."

"Maybe you are nervous?" he enquired with a tone of amusement. "Do not be, Christine. You will do wonderfully. I will be watching the entire time."

Shuffling the music together, she turned to go back to her bedroom. "No," she replied in a rush. "Just tired, I think. But thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Christine."

She scrambled back into her room, quickly shutting the door behind her. After carelessly dropping the music onto the dresser, Christine jumped onto her bed and lay down. Her heart continued its steady thud, loudly pounding inside of her ears. Running a hand through her thick hair, Christine attempted to calm down and find clarity.

However, she was not forced to dwell on her strange thoughts and feelings that evening. Before she could even consider the chaotic whirl of emotions, a new realization slammed into her. A terrible realization.

_You will do wonderfully. I will be watching the entire time._

Erik meant to come to her performance. She hadn't expected him to attend such a social event. How could he with the mask? He barely left the apartment, always enshrouded in shadows when he did go out. Yet, she should have at least considered it. Erik was going to be there...watching her as he always did.

Raoul was likely going to be there. The letter had already been sent. Nothing could be done.

The entire night would be a dangerous game of hiding, running, and lying.

If she didn't figure everything out soon, someone was going to be hurt.


	26. Chapter 26

School has started up again, which means two accounting classes and piles of homework. :( Updates may be a little delayed, but I'll try to make sure you get one every two weeks at the very least. Support is much appreciated!

I've gotten questions as to the pairing, and I did mention it in the author's notes of the first chapter. That still stands for now. Most romance in this story will be subtle, usually tainted with suspense and anxiety. It's still there, though. Anyway, that's where everything stands for those who were curious. Secondly, there is a bit of an exchange between Christine and Raoul, but I don't think it's Raoul bashing. If anyone finds it that way, feel free to tell me, but they do have several arguments throughout the original book.

Anyway...hope you're still enjoying!

**Read and Review!**

Christine clutched the phone in one hand and leaned back onto the leather couch, the familiar nauseous sensation seeping into her stomach. Every morning that she made this phone call, worry engulfed her. Still, Christine couldn't stop herself from dialing the number, feeling as though it were a sort of duty. Erik watched from the side with his long arms folded, likely concerned and displeased by the expression on her face. She kept her focus on the ground.

The high-pitched ringing finally stopped as someone answered. Christine took a deep breath before asking the question, her free hand clenched into a ball. "Hi. I'm Christine Daae, and I'm just calling to check on Mrs. Valerius' present condition. I'm her granddaughter, and I live a long distance away. You probably have me on the visitor's list."

"One moment, please," the woman curtly replied. Another long pause followed, in which Christine grew even more apprehensive. Finally, the woman returned. "She's conscious this morning and has eaten a little. Yesterday was a very rough day for her, but today seems to be better."

"All right," Christine replied with a thick swallow. "Thank you."

"Should I tell her you called?"

"No," she softly responded. "That's okay. Thank you." Christine quickly clicked off the phone and rubbed her temples. She was both relieved that Mrs. Valerius was still alive, and miserable that she would have to continue making the same phone call until the dreaded event did occur. It was a terrible limbo to be in...waiting for a loved one's death.

"I take it she is not well?" asked Erik, interrupting Christine from her troublesome thoughts.

She frowned and kept her gaze toward the floor. "She has good days and bad days. It just seems to linger...to go back and forth. I don't know what to think."

"Life can play cruel and relentless games, my dear," he replied, with what sounded like genuine empathy. "Perhaps you would feel better if you did not call every morning? You seem very distressed, and we would not want you to damage your health."

Christine hesitated. "I want to know when it happens, though. I...I'd like to be able to go to her funeral and help clear out the apartment. I just have to know when she leaves."

It was the first time she had made the statement, and Christine hoped the request would not anger him. Erik had not yelled at her for some time. In fact, he had remained calm and eager to please over the last several days of her stay. Long vocal lessons had consumed the hours, lifting her away from her confusion and anxiety.

"Perhaps a visit there can be arranged," he replied, after a short pause. "It would allow you to say all your goodbyes. One so young and alive should not constantly dwell on death. And I imagine you have possessions that you wish to recover?"

Christine smiled with relief. "I do. A lot of photographs. Things I got from my father..." She softly laughed. "A bunch of old toys and things that I could never bear to get rid of." Feeling childish, she looked up to see him listening intently to her every word. His eyes were set at a soft glow.

"You will see your belongings again, Christine. I have no intent on forever keeping you from them. Arrangements will be made when the time comes."

She nodded her appreciation. "Thank you...Erik." Wishing to get away from the somber and awkward topic, Christine quickly switched to a more familiar subject. "I think I need to practice my song several more times. It's... better than I've ever done before. But I'd like to run through it again...if that's okay."

"Of course!" Erik exclaimed. She found that his eyes especially lit up whenever any mention of her singing was made, perhaps because that was how almost all of their time together was spent. "We will practice several more times. You are already near perfection, though. But come! We will go through it again!"

She rose up from the sofa and followed him back to the piano. Stretching her voice more than she had ever imagined was possible, Christine lost herself in the perfectly flowing chords of the piano. Over the past week, she had sung hymns such as "Ave Maria" and her beloved "Amazing Grace." Erik had even begun to accustom her to opera, telling her that nothing should be considered out of reach. He had introduced her to "Un bel di" from _Madame Butterfly_ and "The Jewel Song" from _Faust_. After months of practice with Erik, plus years of singing alongside her father, the notes were not impossible. Still, Christine often preferred the Broadway tunes and classic ballads, finally choosing one of Sondheim's songs from _A Little Night Music_ as her performance piece. Erik usually submitted to her requests. As long as she was singing for him, he was very content, playing for hours and hours with no pause. Christine's thoughts escaped her during this surreal time. Lost in the swirls of notes, she found that nothing else seemed important.

When she was away from the music, though, Christine did become tense. The fact that she had become a sort of willing prisoner crossed her mind, although she attempted not to dwell on it often. Her upcoming meeting with Raoul constantly frightened her, the thought gnawing at her insides until she felt sick. She regretted sending the letter now. How was she supposed to protect Raoul? And if Erik became angry again...

Christine was very aware that she had gained Erik's trust over the last few weeks, and it was something that she did not want to lose. Of course, betraying him would be a prison sentence. He wouldn't let her see the light of day for God knew how long. She also found that she didn't want to destroy the delicate relationship between them, a strange sort of friendship that was built on music. When they were rehearsing, Erik was...well...hospitable and encouraging, always striving to improve her voice. No malice or bitterness seeped into his words, and enthusiasm lit up his eyes. Christine genuinely enjoyed these tranquil times, and she did not ever want to see that fiery anger and deadly hatred again.

As Christine sang, she would often watch him play the piano, his long fingers gliding over the keys and his concentration focused downward. Sadness and a sympathetic warmth sometimes filled her heart, as she realized that Erik would have been famous if not for his horrible face. Attempting to picture the cadaver's visage in her mind, she wondered if she would be as terrified if Erik ever again removed the mask. Although it was difficult to picture those three gaping holes, Christine hoped she would have the strength to show no reaction.

On their last short rehearsal, the morning before her performance, her nerves began to betray her. Stage fright only made up a small part of her terrible anxiety. Her secret meeting with Raoul was grating upon her in full force. _What if Erik discovered it? How would she hide? _Christine's voice often went off pitch or became flat. She nervously wrung her hands together, losing her concentration several times and mumbling the words.

Erik suddenly stopped in the middle of song and looked toward her. "You are distracted," he stated.

She glanced up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I guess I'm just nervous about this evening. I'm sorry. I'll try again."

He nodded. "Do not be. As I have said, do not worry about impressing them. They are unworthy to even hear you. You will surpass all their expectations."

"I've already passed my own expectations," she softly replied. "I never thought I would be this good. It's...amazing."

"Your voice _is _amazing, Christine."

Her heart rapidly pounded, as he stared at her with what could only be described as desperate longing. "You...you are still coming?" she asked.

"Of course," he whispered. "You will not see me often, but I will always be listening. I will remain in the shadows, able to listen to the conversations of whomever I choose. By the time we depart, we will know exactly what everyone thought of your performance. Perhaps a deal can even be reached to ensure your future career. But I would never miss hearing your voice, Christine! Never would I!"

Her breath momentarily caught in her throat. Everything would be shattered should he discover her meeting that night. "Erik...I..." She softly sighed. "Thank you."

His yellow eyes glowed with excitement. Suddenly, he leaped up from the piano bench, startling her away from her worries. "Come, my dear! I will show you what you will wear!" He reached out but didn't touch her, only motioning Christine to follow him. She blinked in surprise and attempted to keep up with his quick steps. "Go to your closet, Christine. You will find it there!"

With a curious glace toward him, she slowly made her way into her bedroom. Opening the walk-in closet, Christine at first noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Turning around, though, she let out a little gasp of delight as she saw what was hanging on her door. A silky, white dress sat on a hanger, its length just above the floor. The sleeves were short, but a matching white shawl hung nearby to protect her arms from the cold. Delicately touching the soft material with her fingers, she noticed with awe that the dress was also lined with a layer of lace. It had likely cost a fortune. She had never worn anything so elegant.

Christine swallowed, blinking back tears from her eyes. Slowly, she took down the dress from the hanger with a shaking hand, not surprised to see that it was exactly her size. After closing the closet door, she undressed and slipped into the gown. The silky material flowed over her waist and hips, lightly dusting her legs and ending near her ankles. Taking the shawl, she wrapped it over her pale arms.

Within several minutes, Christine opened the door of the closet and emerged from the room. Erik was facing in the opposite direction, hands behind his back and chin tilted slightly upward as if he were in thought. For the first time, he didn't seem to notice her entrance.

Without thinking, she slowly walked over and lightly touched his back with her fingers. He flinched and whirled around, eyes aglow like two dancing flames. They stared at each other for several seconds. Christine could feel her cheeks grow warm as his eyes trailed over her.

"Yes," he finally stated, his voice just above a whisper. "I believe that will do just fine."

"Thank you," she softly replied. "It's wonderful." After tearing her gaze away from him, Christine quickly turned around and left to prepare for the evening. Both a foreign warmth and a horrible anxiety stayed with her the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

The lobby of the enormous hotel was teeming with people, and Raoul found himself constantly stepping out of the way of other guests as he stood waiting. Men in formal suits and women in expensive dresses passed on all sides of him, many going out for dinner or to see the city. He also noticed crowds of people heading into the banquet and conference rooms. Stepping to the side, he wearily glanced around, having no idea of where to begin looking. Christine had said little in the note, only for him to stay out of sight in the lobby. The whole letter had been strange, including how it was delivered. 

Three days ago, Phillip had walked into the living room with an irritated expression on his face.

"Don't tell your friends to send their letters to my office," he stated, holding out a wrinkled envelope. "I get enough junk mail as it is."

Raoul had glanced up, reluctant to turn away from the drone of the television. Ever since his last bitter encounter with Christine, he had attempted to keep his mind occupied. Her words had stung him, especially after she had cried in his arms minutes before. "Huh? I never told anyone to send anything there."

Phillip had tossed him the envelope. "Well...somehow it got there. Just don't do it again." He shook his head and walked into the office, closing the wooden doors tightly behind him.

Raoul had stared at the return address in shock for a moment, before quickly ripping the envelope open. After reading over the letter twice, he set it aside and turned off the television. Not even a minute had passed before he decided that he would go. Something had to be wrong. The letter was disturbingly vague.

Now, though, he was unsure of what to do. There were hundreds of people walking around him. How would he ever find Christine in all of this mess? How would she find him? Feeling tired from wandering around the lobby for over thiry minutes, he finally took a seat in one of the plush lounge armchairs. Several minutes passed. People continued to go in and out. Someone suddenly opened the door of one of the banquet rooms and stepped out to talk on a cellular phone. Raoul was greeted with the sound of someone singing from the inside of the room.

_Don't you love farce? My fault, I fear... I thought that you'd want what I want..._

Jumping out of the chair, Raoul dashed over to the door and held it open a crack. He had immediately recognized the voice, although it was even more vibrant and beautiful than before. There was Christine Daae, singing upon a small stage in her clear voice. Light piano music played in the background, but all else was silent. The audience's focus was entirely on her. Raoul just stood there and watched, noticing how stunning she looked in a white gown and with a few well-placed pieces of glimmering jewelry. He suddenly wondered if she even was in any danger. Her expression as she sang was one of delight.

As the song ended, the audience erupted into an enormous round of applause, some people even standing. Christine smiled and murmured a soft thank you into the microphone. Glowing under the lights, she picked up her dress and stepped down from the stage. People continued to praise her as she made her way forward and to the back of the room. Raoul started to run in and meet her, still in slight awe over her performance.

Christine's head suddenly turned toward the door so that she was staring directly at him. Her blue eyes widened in recognition. Raoul waved, but was surprised when Christine's mouth gaped open and her smile disappeared. She took a quick glance around the room before making a clumsy dash forward, nearly tripping over her dress. As some people stood up to begin dancing, he momentarily lost sight of her in the crowds. In several moments, though, she reappeared directly in front of him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, reaching out to embrace her. "You were amazing up there! I didn't know you could sing like that!"

Christine shook her head. "Shh." Grabbing his wrist tightly, she pulled him out of the banquet room and back into the lobby. Her eyes constantly darted around, staring at every moving object and drifting shadow. Gnawing at her lip, she finally rushed forward toward a room and opened the door, quickly yanking him inside with her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking around in complete bewilderment. "What's going on? Why are we in a closet?"

"It's just better here," she stated, tightly shutting the door behind them and flipping on a dim lightbulb. Brooms, mops, and various cleaning fluids surrounded them. Rags hung on the walls, and a buzzing furnace sat in the corner. A musty smell engulfed the room.

"In a closet? Why can't we just talk outside?"

"We just can't," Christine softly replied, nervously glancing toward the door. "I can't even talk for that long, actually."

Raoul became slightly irked. "Then why did you ask me here in the first place? Would you _please_ just tell me what is going on?"

She looked to the dusty ground, her long hair falling in waves down her shoulders. "I wanted to see you before you left for Aspen. To say goodbye...and...to apologize for what I last said. I don't want to lose touch with you."

He sighed. "Nothing is making any sense, Christine. You're running from one place to another. Sometimes you seem happy to see me, and other times you act like you hate me. Sometimes you're terrified. I don't know what to think. You won't tell me anything!"

Her eyes narrowed in anger. "I can't explain everything! It's really complicated, okay?"

"Fine," he muttered. " Just...Let's get out of this closet. It's too hot, and we're probably not even supposed to be in here." Raoul reached over and opened the door.

"No!" Christine yelped. As she looked out with him, he suddenly heard her let out a sharp gasp. Raoul followed her gaze and saw her to be looking toward a strange shadow. It mingled almost invisibly with the crowds in the lobby, staying in the darker corners. "Oh, God. Close the door!"

"Why?" He continued to follow her eyes. "Is that him? Is that who you're worried about?" Raoul stepped forward. "Let me see him. Who is he?"

"No! You're going to get us both killed! Is that what you want? Close the door!" Bounding forward, Christine pushed passed her friend and slammed the door shut, leaning against it so he couldn't open it again."Oh, God. What if he saw us?" She paced back and forth in the cramped space, wringing her hands together. "Oh God. Oh God."

"Christine!" He firmly grabbed her by the shoulders. "Please tell me what is going on! I'm worried about you. What is he doing to you? Let me call the police or something. Please."

"No!" she panicked. Christine took a deep breath and calmed her voice. "Don't do that. He...he's not doing anything to me. I promise. Everything is fine. He's just teaching me to sing. He's giving me an opportunity to be famous, Raoul. It's amazing, actually."

He squinted in disbelief. "Then why are you shaking? What are you so afraid of?" When she didn't answer, Raoul slowly placed an arm around her trembling shoulders. She quietly leaned against him before finally speaking.

"I...I'm not afraid. I just..." She sighed. "I don't know what I am. Listen, I can't see you for a while. But...I want to keep in touch with you."

"I'm not going to lose touch with you," he replied. "Not when you're upset like this. Tell me what's going on. Why do you stay with him if he scares you? We're hiding in a closet, for God's sake."

"I can't talk about this now. I don't have time. Please." She took out a pen and a paper napkin. "Give me your address and phone number. I'll try to contact you when I can. Just...have fun in Aspen."

He reluctantly took the pen from her and laid the napkin on an old table that was stored in the room, quickly jotting down the requested information. "Can I get a phone number from you?" he asked. "An address? Anything?"

Christine quickly shook her head. "No. That's not possible. I'm sorry."

He sighed in frustration and handed her the napkin. "Do you...are you in a relationship with him or something? You're still wearing the ring. Do you love him?"

"Don't ask stupid questions!" she quickly snapped, stepping away from him.

Raoul raised his hands in self-defense. "All right. I'm sorry. I just...I don't want you to get hurt. I don't understand any of this, Christine. But it worries me."

"I'm sorry, too. But I'll be fine. I just...I...think..." Suddenly, she stopped speaking and looked toward the door. A look of horror came over her face. Raoul looked up as well, immediately seeing that the doorknob was slowly turning.

Christine slowly backed up toward the wall. "Please no," she murmured to herself. "Not now, Erik. Not after everything. I'm so sorry. Please don't come in."

Raoul instinctively grabbed a heavy broom and clasped the handle in his hand, ready to use it as a weapon. He took a step in front of her, but Christine quickly yanked his shirt and pulled him backward.

Both could only watch as the door opened with a grating creak.


	27. Chapter 27

How's one week instead of two:) I managed to find some time here and there to write. I don't have too much to say about this chapter. It's slightly more of a filler but does develop the atmosphere a little more. The next couple of chapters shouldn't be quite as tense. I'm anticipating around 35 to 40 chapters altogether, but we'll see as things progress. As always, thank you for your amazing support. Every review has been wonderful.

**Read and Review!**

As they stood there helplessly trapped against the cold, concrete wall, various horrific scenarios passed through Christine's mind. If it were Erik, would either of them make it out? Should she scream and try to run away from his wrath? Should she stay and attempt to keep Erik calm...convince him that she hadn't been trying to leave? She couldn't bear to think about the anguish and fury in those yellow eyes. That sight alone would destroy her.

"Get back," Christine shakily whispered, noticing that Raoul was starting to come forward again. "Get behind me."

Raoul shook his head and clutched the broom, watching as the door continued to open. "No, Christine. Run as soon as you can."

"What? No! I don't want to..." She quickly became silent as the door opened all the way, revealing the person standing on the other side. "Oh..." Christine practically slouched onto Raoul in a heap of relief. An unfamiliar older man stood behind the door, neatly dressed in a navy three piece suit and a red tie. He glanced into the room over a pair of glasses, appearing a little embarrassed to be walking in on the couple.

"I'm sorry to bother you both," he stated after an awkward moment. "I...just wanted to speak with Ms. Daae. I saw her rush in here and waited a couple of minutes, but my next appointment is in a half hour. Once again, I'm very sorry for intruding. It will only take a minute."

Still trembling, Christine pulled herself upright and took a deep breath. She nervously glanced toward the half-open door and attempted to hide herself from the view of the people on the outside of the room. Raoul set down the broom with a thud and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. "That's...fine," she replied. "How can I help you?"

The man cleared his throat and held out a hand. "My name is Carl Piane. I'm the producer of many well-known performances throughout this city. I was witness to your singing at the banquet this evening, Ms. Daae, and I was absolutely astounded. How have you not already entered into the industry?"

Christine kept an eye on the door as she shook the man's wrinkled hand. "I...thank you," she stuttered, beginning to feel a little claustrophobic.

He smiled, obviously a little confused by her hesitance. "The pleasure is mine. Anyway, I'm very interested in having you audition for an upcoming show. I haven't heard a voice like yours in a long time. Would you be interested? I could give you my card..."

"Wow," said Raoul from behind her. "That's great. Congratulations, Christine."

"Yeah," she murmured. "Thank you. Um...I'm kind of in a hurry. You'd have to talk to my...You'd have to talk to...someone."

"Do you have a manager?" Mr. Piane enquired with a frown. "I was told you didn't."

"No. Well...yes. Actually, I do. You'd have to talk to him somehow." Her heart continued to pound, as she knew Erik was likely searching for her. At any moment, he could walk through that door.

"Oh. I see. Well...could you give him my card? I'm still very interested. "

Christine quickly nodded and took the card from him, folding both it and the napkin into her shawl."Yes. That's fine. I'll ask him. Anyway, I need to go now. Thank you." She quickly turned to Raoul and gave him a one-armed hug. "I'll call you when I can. Have fun in Aspen! Don't forget about me."

"But..."

Although they both protested as she raced out the door, Christine ignored their bewildered looks and entered into the crowded lobby, knowing that she might be saving all three of their lives. Feeling flustered, she turned around in a circle, searching for a lingering shadow or shifting shape. Occasionally, someone congratulated her on her performance, and she distractedly nodded her head in thanks. Faces mingled together as people passed on all sides. Even in her thin dress, the building seemed too warm, and she could feel a layer of perspiration gather on her brow.

Wiping her clammy hands over her face in frustration, Christine continued to search. She was beginning to feel dizzy from the heat and swirls of people. Desperately needing fresh air, she made her way to the glass doors that marked the exit. "Erik..." she murmured, noticing how dry her throat had become. "Where are you?"

Just as she placed her fingers on the cold handle to go outside, a hand came down firmly upon her shoulder. "I am here, Christine," Erik softly stated, slowly guiding her through the shadows and out into the night. The other people seemed oblivious to them both, as if she had blended in with Erik's dark figure. As they stepped outside, she inhaled the cold air gratefully. "I am afraid I lost sight of you at some point. You must forgive me, as I became caught up in my rounds through the many conversations, particularly when you were the topic."

No malice was hidden within his words, and Christine felt her shoulders relax. He knew nothing. "I was just looking around the lobby," she replied, keeping her eyes to the ground. "I was getting something to eat. Then, I...I was waiting for you."

"It is no matter," he softly replied as the black vehicle pulled up.

She didn't realize that his hand had remained upon her shoulder until he lifted it to open her car door. The frigid air had masked his cold skin. Climbing inside the heated backseat, Christine found herself peacefully awaiting the words of praise that she hoped would come. The events of the night were over, and everything was in one piece. There was nothing more to fear.

She released a long sigh of pure relief.

* * *

Raoul had just blankly stared out the closet door for several moments, trying to make sense of everything that had occurred. From what he could see, Christine was aimlessly looking around the lobby, practically spinning around and around with no set direction. Her brow was furrowed in frustration, and her mouth was contorted with worry. 

"She's a little jumpy," commented Mr. Piane, also gazing at her disappearing figure. "Strange girl. But a lot of people in show business are like that, I suppose. She's got a damn good voice, though."

"Yeah," he murmured. "Excuse me, sir." Raoul pushed passed the older man and into the crowded lobby, searching the masses of people for Christine. She had disappeared several seconds ago, blending into the dozens of other faces. Finally, he caught sight of her shiny blonde hair and white dress near the exit. Making his way forward, Raoul started to call out to her but stopped as her attention suddenly went elsewhere.

As she began to briskly walk forward, he realized that she was in the accompaniment of a tall, dark figure. The man stayed within the shadows, almost disappearing at some points. Raoul took a quick glance around before silently following them out the glass doors. A twinge of jealousy raced through him as he saw that the man kept a hand on Christine's shoulder, and she made no move to shrug it off. He continued to make his way forward, keeping hidden behind other groups of people. A woman gave him an annoyed glance as he brushed against her shoulder, and Raoul felt slightly ridiculous slinking his way through the crowds. Still, he was desperate to discover who Christine's mysterious companion was. Over the din of the conversations, he could just barely hear her say something.

"I...I was waiting for you," she said in a timid voice. It was very different from the tone that Christine had just used with him, and Raoul could easily tell the man kept some kind of power over her.

"It is no matter," her companion replied, continuing to lead her toward the street. Raoul blinked in surprise at the sound of the man's strange voice. Only once before had he heard that beautifully frightening timbre. The cemetery...when he had been attacked. At that time, the voice had almost sounded like the wind.

Before he could get any closer, a black vehicle pulled up to the sidewalk. Christine willingly got into the backseat, and her companion walked to the other side. Raoul was only able to stand there as the doors closed, and the car quickly began to drive away. Not once had he been able to get a good look at the man's face.

With his hands tucked into his coat pockets for warmth, he attempted to unravel the details in his mind. Who the heck was this guy? What did he want with Christine? Was she really frightened, or was this all some sort of game? Why didn't she just call the police? She'd had the opportunity several times.

Raoul was suddenly startled by someone approaching him on the right. Whirling around, he blinked several times in the dim streetlights as recognition overtook him. It was the Middle Eastern man he had seen in Vermont just weeks ago, the one that had been bothering Christine in the corridor. A frantic expression now lay on the older man's face.

"Excuse me," he began, very out of breath. "You...you are Ms. Daae's friend, right? Christine Daae? You know her? Correct?"

"Uh...yeah," Raoul replied, slightly taken aback. "Why? Who are you?"

"I do not have time to explain," he sharply replied. "Was she here tonight? Is she here right now? I heard she was singing."

"Yeah. I mean, she just left about a minute ago. But why? What's going on? Who are you?"

"A minute ago?" the older man replied, ignoring Raoul's questions and taking several steps backward. A new look of hope gleamed in his dark eyes. "Did you happen so see which way they went?"

"Yeah." He pointed to the left parking lot exit. "But what..."

"Thank you. Thank you very much." The man began to race back in the opposite direction, nearly sliding over a patch of ice.

"Wait! What the heck is going on? Do you know where Christine is?"

The man briefly turned and shook his head. "I can't speak right now. Maybe later. It is very dangerous!"

Without another word, he raced off into the shadows of the parking lot. Raoul stood on the curb in complete confusion, beginning to wonder if he would ever understand any of this. From inside his pocket, he heard his cell phone beep with a new text message. Sighing, he took it out and squinted down to see that it was just Brian with a flight schedule. They were leaving in about two weeks.

At that moment, Raoul decided that he was definitely making the trip to Aspen. Worry and doubts over Christine had kept him from committing to going. If she really needed his help, though, she could call him. If this whole thing was nothing but a game...well...he was tired of playing. He was tired, and there was nothing else he could do. As a wave of melancholy swept over him, Raoul began the slow trek back to his car.

* * *

They had been traveling for at least ten minutes before Erik finally spoke. He had quietly stared straight ahead for some time, only requesting the driver to turn up the heat at one point. Christine had calmly stared out the window, feeling relieved that the dreaded night was over. Her muscles relaxed, and her heart resumed a normal rhythm. 

She thought back to her moment on stage and smiled a little. A feeling of pure exhilaration had swept through her as she stood in the spotlight with the undivided attention of the audience. There was no sensation comparable. Still, Christine found herself awaiting Erik's critique. Even after all of the congratulations she had received that night, his opinion somehow mattered the most. She sharply turned her head as he finally began to speak.

"Your performance tonight surpassed all expectations, just as I told you that it would. Not one negative word was uttered about you in any of the conversations I happened to overhear. Every opportunity is now yours to posses, should you want it."

She smiled at the warm words of praise. "Thank you. It was amazing to be up there. I can't believe I really did it...but...I loved it."

"I am glad. " Erik studied her, eyes glimmering with excitement. "It is divine to share your voice with the rest of the world. And yet, if you were to forever sing for me alone, I would be just as content. But it is your decision, Christine. Whatever you want, I will give it to you."

Christine shifted in her seat. "I...thank you."

"What is it that you want? You have not answered me."

She looked down at her folded hands, both so pale that they nearly matched her white dress. "I..." It was an odd question. What did he want her to say? And what did she want? Fame? Freedom? Christine only knew what she didn't want. She didn't want that hollow feeling of loneliness that had often consumed her since her father had died.

It was strange. Over the last several weeks, Christine had experienced more terror and anxiety than she had ever felt. She had even feared for her very life on several occasions. Her freedom was still an uncertainty that she didn't like to dwell on. At the same time, she had experienced elation when she was on the stage that night. Then, there was that warm feeling of peace she often felt during practices or while she quietly read in Erik's home. Even now, riding along in the warm car, she somehow felt safe and content.

In all the turmoil of emotions, though, Christine very rarely felt that empty feeling of being alone. With Erik, she was never alone. And...in some strange way, she was grateful.

Finally, she answered him. "I don't know. I want...whatever you think is best, Erik."

He tilted his head. "Surely you have some opinion, my dear. The stage? Or would you simply prefer to sing?"

She laughed lightly, realizing the question was only referring to her career. "Oh. I'll think about that. I'm just a little tired tonight."

"Of course. You have plenty of time to make your decision. As I said, as long as you continue to sing for me, I will be satisfied."

"I will," she softly replied. Christine stared outside for awhile, happy to see that her window was not opaque with fog. Dark buildings continued to pass on all sides, many of them still dotted with yellow rectangles of light. Other cars came up next to them for several seconds, some of the drivers singing along with the radio or talking to the person beside them. People walked down the sidewalks with their hands in their pockets and their heads turned downward, searching for relief from the cold. The city really did never sleep.

"Have you always lived here?" she absentmindedly asked, surprised when the question left her mouth. She had never pried any information from him.

Erik sharply glanced up. "No," he stated after a moment's hesitation. "This city has been one of many residences throughout the world. I rarely stay in one place for a significant amount of time."

"Really!" she exclaimed, turning around. "The world? You've been to other countries?"

A wry chuckle came from his hidden lips. "Many countries, Christine. Most of which I prefer to forget."

"I'm sorry," she replied, looking away. " I just...I haven't been to many places."

"Consider yourself lucky that you have not seen some of the horrors outside of this nation. Such things are not for your eyes. The world is not out of your grasp, though, my dear. Perhaps you will see it someday. As I said, I never stay in one place for very long."

Her heart jumped. "You...you're leaving here someday? And I...I'm coming...or I..." She stuttered for a moment, not knowing what to say. Fear and excitement coursed through her veins simultaneously.

"Do you want to?" he tonelessly enquired.

Christine looked away, eyes narrowed with confusion. She answered honestly. "I don't know. I never...considered it."

Erik nodded. "Indeed. Even I am hesitant to leave this metropolis. I believe it is the most pleasing of all the places I have ever taken residence." His eyes beamed down upon her with nothing less than happiness. "Yes. I have enjoyed my stay here profoundly, Christine."

"Then we don't have to leave," she quickly replied, not wanting to make any regrettable decisions that night. Everything was happening so fast that she often found it difficult to think. "It doesn't matter."

"No. You are right. It doesn't matter where _we_ go. With you, I could go anywhere and be content."

Christine swallowed. At what point had she suddenly been paired to go anywhere with him? A fog of confusion draped itself over her mind. Half the time, she couldn't tell if she was making her own decisions, or if Erik was making them for her. "I...Maybe we could just see the city first. I've always wanted to see New York."

He laughed richly, perhaps sensing her slight panic. "I have no plans to suddenly escape the country. We are fine here for now. Wouldn't you agree?" The yellow dots bore into her. "You are happy, Christine?"

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear, she looked back up. His eyes pled for the answer that he wanted to hear, and so she quickly gave it to him. "Yes. I'm happy here. You've done a lot for me...more than most people. I...I'm very happy." The words left her mouth easily, and she did not once break eye contact. Either she was becoming a skillful liar, or...the truth had just emerged from her lips.

A look of peace entered his eyes. "Very good." Erik lightly brushed his fingers against the back of her idle hand. Although Christine remained frozen in her seat, she did not flinch at the cold sensation. As he withdrew his fingers and turned to faced forward, a pleasant warmth entered her cheeks.

She turned to look back out the damp window, pondering the question until her head ached. Was she happy? At that moment, well...she was. It wasn't completely understandable, but she was warm and content...and happy. That's not to say there wasn't an ever-present fear floating around. She knew that if she tried to escape, horrible consequences would follow. But she wasn't trying to escape anymore. If she was happy, why would she run away? Didn't that mean everything was okay?

Allowing herself to relax with this knowledge, Christine tilted her head back onto the seat. Her eyelids soon became heavy, and the warm air was lulling her into a light doze. _Everything was okay..._her mind told her repeatedly. _Everything would be fine._

"Sir?"

The gruff voice boomed out from the side speakers. Christine sat up straight with a gasp and nearly jumped out of her seat, gazing around in utter confusion. All thoughts fled from her mind.

Erik straightened up as well but seemed unalarmed. "It is fine, Christine," he gently stated, noticing her distraught expression. "It is only the driver." He turned toward the front and took on an icier tone. "What?" he asked loudly. "I told you to refrain from speaking unless absolutely necessary."

"Yes. I know, sir," the man replied with more caution. "We're being followed, though. I've even taken some unusual turns. The guy won't let up."

Erik's hand clenched into a fist as he whirled around in the seat. His eyes narrowed and focused upon an oncoming grey vehicle. "Ah...my friend," she heard him mutter. "You know not what games you play." He faced forward again. "Stop the car immediately. I will not have him following me to my home."

The driver said nothing in reply, but the vehicle came to a steady halt on the side of the street. Christine looked out to see smaller and older buildings scattered beside the road. Few other people were around, and many of the streetlights were out. Feeling her stomach tighten with anxiety, she looked up as Erik opened his door. "What...?"

"Stay here, Christine," he softly commanded. "I will return shortly."

Christine merely nodded as Erik closed the door. After he was gone, she turned her head to look out the back window but was dismayed to see that it had fogged up with a light drizzle. Wringing her hands in her lap, Christine could do nothing but wait and wonder. Minutes continued to pass, and the knot in her stomach grew tighter._ What was going on? Who was following them? Was Erik okay? _

She jumped in surprise as her own car door opened, shivering from the onrush of chilly, damp air. Erik stood on the other side and gestured for her to come out. Christine started to wrap her shawl around her shoulders, but stopped when she felt the napkin and business card inside the folds. Bare-shouldered, she quickly closed her door and stepped outside, looking up at Erik with unasked questions. "Someone wishes to ensure your well being," he stated. "I will oblige this once." Although his words to her were kind, a dangerous glow was in his eyes...slightly predatorial.

"All right." Christine nodded and began walking away from the black car, noticing the close distance Erik was keeping between them. In the distance, she could make out a man standing next to a grey car with his arms folded. Erik lightly touched her back to keep her moving forward.

"Do nothing that he tells you,"he whispered. "Simply show him that you are in good health...that you are content where you are. Because we _are _fine, Christine. Aren't we?"

She quickly nodded, hearing a slight tone of panic in his voice. Was he afraid she would somehow betray him?

Looking up, Christine was now able to see the man's face more clearly in the streetlights. She quietly gasped in recognition. Erik moved right up beside her, so that their arms were nearly touching. The darkly-toned man stared directly at her, and she saw what looked like relief pass over his tired face. He started to reach out a hand toward her, but Erik flinched forward, causing the man to quickly draw back. All was silent for several moments, and a dangerous tension hung in the air.

Finally, Erik spoke, his voice calm but deadly.

"Here is Ms. Daae, Nadir, just as you requested. Alive and well. Are you satisfied? For your sake, my friend, I certainly hope so."


	28. Chapter 28

Hey guys! As always and forever, thank you for the support. Your comments make my day. I think that most of you will enjoy this chapter, as many people are eager for a little romance. The next couple of chapters will be a little calmer, slightly more to the romantic side and less angsty. Am I winding the story down or just giving you a false sense of security? You'll have to see that for yourselves :) That being said, this story is going to be nearly forty chapters long, and I'm not one to write 12 chapters of pure romance. ;)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**Read and Review!**

A very short article in the entertainment section of the newspaper had placed Nadir in his current position. As he was browsing through various shows around the city, searching for something to occupy his time while he waited for Erik to appear, the Iranian had come across Ms. Daae's name. She was on a short list of performers for a banquet that evening at a well-known hotel. By the time he noticed her name in the jumble of black newspaper print, the dinner was already half over.

After getting over a moment of shock, the Iranian had thrown on his winter coat and raced across town, nearly getting into a car accident on the icy streets. His head spun as he attempted to weave his way through the traffic jams and careless drivers. Luckily, the hotel wasn't too far from his current residence, and he finally swerved into the crowded parking lot with a loud screech. With dismay, Nadir glanced at the clock and realized that the banquet had likely ended. The entrance was swarming with people, and he blankly searched the masses for any sign of Christine Daae.

Although he never found the young woman, Nadir's eyes did fall on a familiar face. Christine's male friend was standing on the curb of the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. The Iranian doubted it was a coincidence that they both happened to be there that night. Jumping out of his car, he had rushed up to the young man and discovered that Christine had just departed. From the confused look on the boy's face, Nadir was sure that Christine had not given her friend much information. Perhaps that was a good thing, though. Erik would have no qualms with wiping the young man off the face of the earth if it ever came to that.

Ignoring the boy's questions, he had raced back to his car and sped onto the busy streets, praying there were no police officers nearby. Swerving in and out of traffic, Nadir began to think it was going to be another fruitless search. Hundreds of cars surrounded him, and Erik was likely long gone into the shadows.

Pure luck had been on the Iranian's side when he suddenly noticed the strange black car, weaving its way through the crowds with amazing ease. The vehicle almost seemed to hover over the streets without touching the road. From what he could tell, the black car had just come from the exact same direction and had been stopped at a light for several minutes. With caution, Nadir began to follow several cars behind the phantom vehicle, attempting to keep out of sight of its rearview mirrors. Although the windows were tinted, he could barely make out the faint shapes of two people in the back, one much taller than the other.

As the car began to pick up speed and head along hidden side streets, Nadir was more sure than ever he had found whom he was looking for. Still attempting to keep a low profile, he trailed behind, dimming his headlights to the minimal amount necessary. When the car suddenly began to weave in strange patterns, Nadir realized that he had been seen. His heart jumped as the black car finally swerved to the side of the road. All was still for several moments, and Nadir gripped onto the steering wheel in anticipation. He wondered if he was insane coming there with no weapon of any kind. Everything had happened so fast, though. All he could concentrate on was finding Erik.

Finally, the left back door of the car opened, and a figure slowly stepped out onto the streets. Even before Nadir saw the golden dots, he recognized the quick, flowing stride of his masked comrade. Taking a deep breath, the Iranian climbed out of his Toyota and waited. Erik was in front of him in an instant, standing mere feet away. Nadir inadvertently shrunk back, watching as the yellow eyes flashed with dangerous anger.

"My friend," whispered Erik, taking another quick step forward. "What did you ever hope to accomplish tonight by following me home?"

Nadir swallowed but stood firmly. "You know why I'm here, Erik. I want to see the girl. You promised me that she was with you on her own free will. Now let me see it for myself."

The yellow eyes gleamed with amusement. "Do you really think this is the best place to be making demands of me?" Erik enquired, gesturing to the dark, barren streets. "Are you even armed, my friend? Did you think any of this plan through?" He chuckled. "You are getting careless in your old age."

The Iranian tilted his chin upward. "If you wanted to kill me, you could have done so many times. I've risked my life since I've been here. Now is no different."

"You really do tempt me. I should kill you tonight." Erik loomed over him at full height, hands clenched into fists. "It would make so many of my problems go away. And perhaps I could then live in peace with my love...without your interference."

Nadir's heart raced with unexpected fear. He had seen that look in Erik's eyes, and it was not something to be mistaken. Maybe he wasn't as ready to die as he had claimed. "Erik. I simply want to see that the girl is well. Please. That is all I ask. You made me the promise that I would see her."

Erik drew back and paused in thought. Nadir held his breath. "Fine. I will show her to you this one time. But only because I wish you to see our divine love for yourself. And then you will leave, Nadir. If you value your life at all, you will leave. But yes! I will show my love to you." A strange joy gleamed from his previously murderous eyes.

Nadir slowly nodded. "Thank you, Erik. After I've seen if for myself, I'll leave you alone."

Erik slowly stepped backward and then whirled around, blending in with the shadows as he returned to the vehicle. He opened the car door on the right side and quietly spoke to someone for several seconds. A moment later, Nadir watched with relief as a young woman stepped out and began walking forward. She wore a silky white dress that nearly blended with her pale skin. Her blue eyes darted around with uncertainty, before finally settling on him with surprised recognition. Erik walked mere inches behind her, almost daring anyone to come near to them.

As they approached, the Iranian made a slight move forward to get a closer look. Erik flinched forward as well with a menacing gaze, causing Nadir to quickly draw back.

"Here is Ms. Daae, Nadir, just as you requested," stated Erik. "Alive and well. Are you satisfied? For your sake, my friend, I certainly hope so."

Nadir slowly nodded, keeping his gaze focused on the young girl. Christine looked up at him curiously, before glancing back toward Erik. His masked friend looked down upon her with nothing less that pure adoration. The Iranian had never seen such affection and desire in those cold yellow eyes. It was both strangely beautiful and frightening. Cautiously, he spoke to her. "Hello, Ms. Daae. How are you this evening?"

She briefly glanced at Erik before speaking, her voice quiet and kind. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Christine did marvelously tonight," interrupted Erik. "All at the banquet were amazed by her voice."

"Congratulations," said Nadir, studying her closely. He looked for terror or sickness in her face, any sign of discomfort. Perhaps her eyes would tell him something.

Christine smiled. In the dim lighting, he even though he saw the hints of an embarrassed blush. "Thank you. I really enjoyed being there."

An awkward silence passed before Nadir spoke again. "And...Erik has been teaching you?"

She nodded. "Yes. He's taught me almost everything. I never thought I could sing like I do now. It's...been amazing."

The Iranian shifted, wishing he could get a moment alone with her. Of course she wouldn't say anything with Erik standing over her shoulder. She wasn't stupid. Nadir hesitated and looked up. The yellow eyes were daring him to make a foolish move. "You are...enjoying the city? Having fun here?"

Christine tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded again. "Yeah. Well...I haven't seen too much, but I might later. It seems really nice, though."

Erik sharply cut in. "Yes. I plan to give her a tour. Rehearsing has taken up much of our time."

Nadir continued to stare at them with uncertainty. Although Christine was shivering, it appeared to be only because she was cold in her thin dress. She looked a little unsure and tired, but he could detect no real fear on her face. Had he known nothing of the situation, the Iranian would have assumed everything to be fine. Still, though... "Could I...talk to you alone for a second, Ms. Daae?"

Erik stepped in front of her in an instant, separating Christine from the Iranian's view. "That was never part of our arrangement," he coldly stated, a dangerous glint returning to his eyes. "You have seen her as you requested, and I believe this visit is now over." He turned to look at Christine. "Go to the car, my dear," he gently commanded. "It is much too cold for you out here. I will return in a moment."

Christine momentarily paused and glanced between the two men. Nadir felt a nervous grinding in the pit of his stomach. Something was not still quite right about the situation. Erik was obviously holding a certain amount of power over the young woman.

She finally turned around and quickly walked back to the car, looking over her shoulder several times before she climbed in. Erik watched her leave, never once taking his eyes off of her form. "Isn't she perfectly wonderful, Nadir? My Christine."

"Yes, Erik. She's a very nice girl." He sighed, too afraid and uncertain to say anything else.

"Nice?" He chuckled. "No, Nadir. She is a piece of heaven...if such a place existed."

"Erik..." The Iranian sighed. "Why will you not let me speak with her? If she truly wishes to stay with you, then she will say nothing to the contrary. Correct? What do you have to fear?"

Erik whirled around and faced him. "You will not speak to her because you will turn her against me! You will dig up the past, Nadir! Tell her lies of all sorts!" He growled and approached him. Nadir took a step back, gripping onto the hood of his car. "If it were not for her, I would have done away with you this night. And let me make myself perfectly clear. If I see you again, I will kill you. When you awaken, I expect you to leave this city."

"You are walking a dangerous line, my friend. And what do you mean when I awaken?"

Erik's eyes glowed. "I certainly cannot have you following me back to my humble home, can I? No. That would not do at all." He removed something from the folds of his suit. Before Nadir could step away, Erik lunged at him, pressing a white cloth to his mouth and nose. "Just be content that you will eventually wake up this time, my friend. Next time you will not be that fortunate."

The Iranian groaned in protest as a heavy feeling of exhaustion swept over his body. Darkness quickly enveloped him, and he felt his legs fall out from beneath his torso. A brief wave of pain shook his body as he slammed onto the cold concrete.

"Have a good evening," he heard Erik say from above, before finally blacking out completely.

* * *

Christine returned to the car and waited for several minutes, content to be out of the cold and nervously wondering what was going on outside. Dozens of questions raced through her mind as she lay back under the heaters. She had seen that man before. He had even frightened her on one occasion, but she never knew he had any connection to Erik. Who was he? The encounter had been awkward and tense. She never quite knew what she was supposed to say, but her words had been somewhat true. The man...Nadir...had seemed unsure about the situation as well. 

She glanced backward several times but could only make out the distant outline of the car and its dim headlights. A shadow suddenly passed by the window, and the door across from her flew open with a gust of cold air. Erik climbed into the car but remained sitting upright. "Drive!" he ordered, even before he had closed his door. The vehicle sped forward, roughly jolting Christine back into her seat. Looking behind her, she could see that the grey car had not moved from its spot. The other man had vanished. She swallowed in uncertainty, almost not wanting to know what had just happened.

Erik turned and somehow noticed the fear in her eyes. "Christine," he began, reaching a hand out toward her. "What is the matter? Are you frightened?"

"No," she quickly replied, taking another glance behind them. "I'm fine."

He gently grabbed onto her wrist, causing her to start and look up at him in confusion. "Nadir is well, Christine. He will not follow us! Now that he has seen you, he will not bother us anymore."

Her heart raced. "All right," she choked out, wondering what had really occurred. _Had Erik...? Was Nadir dead?_

Likely seeing the remaining horror on her face, Erik quickly reached into his suit pocket and removed a white cloth. "He merely sleeps, Christine! It was necessary to ensure that he would not follow us. But he is still alive! I promise. You do believe me?" Erik gripped her wrist even tighter, staring at her with desperate intensity.

Christine gazed at the damp white cloth, almost feeling dizzy from the very faint fumes. "Yes," she whispered. "I believe you, Erik. I do."

He loosened his grip on her wrist, calmness entering his eyes. "Very good. Nadir will leave soon, and we will not have to concern ourselves with him any longer."

"Who is he?" she asked quietly. "I've seen him before. Back in Vermont."

Erik hesitated. "He is ...an acquaintance from many years ago. I did not expect to see him again, nor did I wish to. It is best that Mr. Khan is forgotten. He knows nothing of the present...only of the past."

"Oh."

"Let us forget him now. He is irrelevant to us."

As the car resumed its normal course, Christine merely nodded and lay back into the seat. She never knew what to think, but she felt a need to believe him that evening. Erik did seem almost desperately sincere, and the cloth had contained the same chemical that had only put her to sleep. She sighed and attempted to push the matter from her mind, allowing it to fade into the rest of her troubling memories of the evening.

The rest of the car ride was in silence. Christine remained fully awake, clutching the silk shawl with the two pieces of paper in her right hand. She did plan on telling Erik about Mr. Piane somehow that night, but she wanted to get the napkin hidden first. One wrong move, and she could reveal the events of that evening to Erik. How horrible it would be to lose his trust now.

Within a few minutes, the car came to a quick halt, and Christine looked up to see that they had arrived. Very carefully, she gathered up the shawl and opened her car door. Erik made no move to come out. "I need a moment to speak with the driver," he stated as she climbed onto the sidewalk. "Keep near to the vehicle. I will be out in a moment."

She nodded and obediently closed the door, warily looking at her unpleasant surroundings. Glancing to the left, she saw two ragged men leer at her as they walked down the decrepit streets. Both were unshaven and staggered as though intoxicated. Christine gripped onto the door handle, wanting to jump back inside the car.

Erik finally stepped out, though, immediately noticing her distraught expression. "What is wrong, Christine?" He followed her gaze to the men, and his eyes flared slightly. "They would not dare get within ten feet of you when you are with me. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Sure enough, as soon as they laid eyes upon Erik's looming figure, both men backed away and practically ran in the opposite direction. Christine watched with slight awe until she felt Erik's hand gently ushering her forward. She quickly made her way down the concrete steps, eager to get out of the cold air and away from the unpleasant surroundings. Stepping inside, she found herself relieved to see the now familiar settings. Even the predatorial figurines didn't seem frightening...just another part of the strange little home. Still clutching the shawl, Christine turned to face him. "I'll be right back," she said softly. "I forgot to tell you something earlier."

"Of course," he replied with sincere interest. "I would prepare you dinner, but you said you had eaten at the banquet?"

Feeling a sharp pang in her stomach, she realized that she had not eaten anything since that morning. "Um. Actually, I'm still hungry...if it's not any trouble...just something simple is fine."

He turned to go to the kitchen. "Of course it is no trouble. As I have said, all you must do is ask."

"Thank you." She turned and walked quickly to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief that she had made it through the night, she took out the napkin and placed it into the middle of a notebook. Christine then stuffed the notebook into the far back of a dresser drawer. If she ever needed it, it would be there. At the moment, though, she felt secure and at peace.

She frowned momentarily, realizing that Raoul was likely very confused by now. If only she could have a normal conversation with him...see him without having to hide. He had truly been wonderful these last few weeks, and she would have liked to have stayed friends. Maybe, in time, she could convince Erik that she truly had no intention to leave...that he had nothing to fear.

For now, though, she would keep things as they were. Her future career lay ahead of her, and, in some odd way, she was beginning to enjoy Erik's company. She was certainly grateful for all that he had done for her...although his devotion was still occasionally frightening. At the same time, though, she found their hours together pleasant and tranquil. Some of their conversations had been truly fascinating, and she often looked forward to their rehearsals. Only when he became angry did he terrify her, and he had been nothing but kind and cordial in these last weeks...ever since she had removed his mask.

Christine sighed, again wondering if the face would prove as horrific the second time.

Clasping Mr. Piane's business card in her right hand, Christine returned to the living area, quickly planning what she would say inside of her head. Erik glanced up expectantly as she walked into the kitchen.

"Erik," she began, clearing her throat. "After the banquet, a...a man complimented me and asked me to audition for one of his shows. He gave me his card. I don't know much about it...but...maybe you would."

He stared back with slight surprise. "I did not realize you had spoken with anyone. It is strange how quickly you seemed to disappear from my view this evening. I suppose I was occupied, though."

Christine shifted nervously as Erik accepted the card. "We only talked for a short time," she said softly, hiding all deceit in her voice. "Mr. Piane and I."

"He is fairly well known," replied Erik, after glancing it over. "I am not always fond of his productions, but some are decent. And he will get you noticed by the public. As always, the choice is yours. You are capable of anything."

She smiled, feeling encouraged. "Maybe I could go to the audition, then. He seemed nice...and really interested. I could try it."

Erik nodded. "I will arrange the audition shortly, then. In the meantime, we will see what other opportunities become available." He gestured for her to come into the kitchen. "Your dinner is ready."

She sat down at the table and scooped a warm chicken and vegetable cuisine onto her plate, feeling unusually hungry. All was quiet, save for the clinking of the spoon on the plate and faint hum of the heater. As Erik moved to exit the room, Christine glanced up. She hesitated a second before speaking. "Erik. Aren't you hungry, too?"

He froze in his steps and stared down at her. The yellow eyes blinked twice. "No. Not at the moment."

"Oh." Her throat was suddenly dry. "You could eat with me if you wanted to. There's a lot here." Christine stared down at her plate, not really sure what she was doing. Maybe she just wanted some company...

Erik was speechless for several moments. "I will eat later," he replied in a raspy voice. "But...I will remain here if you do not wish to eat alone. I imagine you are used to dining with others."

She looked up and nodded. "I am," she earnestly replied. "I don't really like eating alone." Her breath stopped for a moment, as she saw he was once again gazing at her in that strange way. Erik slowly started to sit down at the table. A look of excitement entered his eyes, though, and he quickly stood back up.

"Wait," he said with sudden eagerness, turning to leave the room. "We can make use of this time." Confused, Christine slowly began to eat again, finding comfort in the warm, flavorful food. As she took a drink of ice water, Erik returned to the kitchen and quickly took a seat. Slightly startled by his sudden actions, she glanced up and saw that he held several papers in his hand.

"You wished to see the city?" he enquired, holding up what appeared to be brochures. "Choose what you want to see, and I will ensure you have the opportunity. Wherever you wish, Christine."

Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Thank you," she replied, as she slowly took the papers into her hands. As she ate the rest of her dinner, Christine flipped through the little books with delight, staring at all the city had to offer. She made small comments here and there as she gazed over the colorful photographs of the different sights. "Wow," she murmured. "There's so much. Anywhere would be nice. Maybe a play. Or a museum." Her eyes danced over the pictures and descriptions. "A concert might be fun. Anywhere..."

Erik remained at the table, answering her occasional questions with his eyes always upon her. She felt oddly relaxed in the small kitchen, only becoming sleepy as the hour grew later. Finally, she sat her fork down with a clink and looked up from the brochures with a tired smile. "I'll have to think about it. Everything looks great..."

"Wherever you wish," he softly repeated. "Simply tell me."

"Thank you. I'll look some more tomorrow." A small yawn of exhaustion emerged from her lips, and she blinked her heavy eyelids sleepily. "I think I'd better go to bed now." Erik merely nodded, continuing to sit there almost motionlessly. She wasn't able to tell what he was thinking, as his eyes were calm and distant. He looked... almost vulnerable with his dark suit hanging over his thin frame, and his bony hands folded atop the table.

Christine slowly got up from the chair, feeling a strange sense of affection run through her soul. As she turned to leave the room, she slowly stuck out a trembling hand and softly laid it upon his shoulder, feeling him tense beneath her fingers.

"Good night, Erik."


	29. Chapter 29

It's been a busy week, but I finally got this chapter done. I found it difficult to set a tone for it. On the one hand, it's a bit fluffy. On the other...it's not. I guess I hope the two sides to Erik's personality are shown. I also hope I don't scary anyone off with my little flashback. :) Hope you enjoy! I love your feedback as always! Happy Valentine's Day!

**Read and Review!**

It was the first morning in some time that Christine awoke without an overwhelming sense of anxiety. No threatening events loomed ahead of her, and a decision had finally been made. Looking around the little room, she found that her surroundings didn't seem as frightening. In some ways, she had even grown fond of the strange home. A warm contentment settled inside of her as she sat up in the bed and stretched.

With a yawn, Christine climbed out from under the covers and padded her way across the soft throw rug. After turning on a lamp, she swept her long hair up into a pony tail. It was starting to become harder to wash and untangle. Maybe just a trim would help. Walking to her closet, she chose a pair of black slacks and a red v-neck shirt, somewhat tired of the heavy turtlenecks she had been wearing for the last several weeks. The outfit felt loose and relaxed, perfectly fitting her trim form. Picking up the hand mirror, she looked over her reflection momentarily. Dark circles still hung under her eyes, but she thought some color had returned to her cheeks. The lines of tension on her forehead had faded as well.

Emerging from the bedroom, she found the temperature of the living area to be slightly chillier. From behind the walls of Erik's chambers, the piano was playing at a quick tempo, although the melody was of a lighter variety. Christine quietly began humming along to the song as she took a seat on the leather sofa. _Did Erik ever sleep? _she wondered. _Or did he play the piano all night long? _She smiled to herself as the music reached a crescendo.

Looking down, she saw that the brochures from the night before had been thoughtfully placed on the table beside her. She began to flip through the colorful photographs again, reading the descriptions of the more interesting sights. There was so much to see in the city...galleries, performances, and restaurants. The opportunities she was being handed gave her a deep feeling of gratitude. Some freedom had also been acquired over the last few days, putting her more at ease.

Erik came out of his room around twenty minutes later, and she turned around as the door quietly clicked open behind her. Glancing at the serpent clock, he looked slightly surprised to see her sitting there. "It is later than I thought," he stated, taking a step forward. "I fear that I became caught up in my music this morning."

"Oh." She smiled and set the brochures back down on the table. "Was that...your own composition? I'd never heard it before."

"No. It was an arrangement of various classics. As I have said, I would never play my music for another to hear."

She frowned slightly, almost feeling insulted. "I'm sure I'd like it, Erik. Everything you play is... amazing."

His eyes glowed pleasantly, and he walked to stand in front of her. "Your words are warming, Christine. But I would never torture you with my own music. I want you to remain happy here...as you are."

"All right," she replied with resignation. "I'd still like to hear it, though."

"No more talk of me," he commanded, although she thought it sounded like he was smiling beneath the mask. It was strange how she was learning to sense his emotions without ever seeing his expressions. As of now, his posture seemed more relaxed than usual, and his gestures were casual. "You may be interested to know that I arranged your audition for you. Mr. Piane must have sincerely enjoyed your performance, as he agreed to meet with you tomorrow afternoon. I believe you will be adequately prepared."

Her face lit up. "Yes! That's fine. Thank you. I don't know if I'll make it, but he..."

"You still doubt yourself, my dear?" questioned Erik with a chuckle. "If he does not choose you, it will be a loss that he regrets. And there will be many more opportunities." She averted her eyes at the compliment, as a blush entered her cheeks. He looked upon her briefly before taking a seat on the other sofa. "Ah. I see you have been looking over the city. Do you see any place to your liking? Perhaps you can go somewhere after you audition? Would you enjoy that?"

Christine faced him again, feeling more relaxed now that he wasn't standing over her. She smiled. "It all looks wonderful. Maybe the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Or if you can recommend any place..."

"It has been some time since I bothered going anywhere for leisure, except to hear you sing. I find it is not worth the trouble. You decide where you wish to go, my dear. I have no input."

A very faint bitterness lined his words, and she even felt the urge to console him. Not knowing what to say, though, Christine just pursed her lips and looked down. "All right. I'll try the museum, then. One of my professors recommended going..." She suddenly paused, and her eyes widened. "Oh! I forgot all about school. They're going to wonder..."

"It is taken care of," he gently replied. "You are no longer enrolled. Perhaps you can continue your education later."

"Oh. I see."

"Does this bother you, Christine? Certainly you wouldn't have had the time to pursue your career simultaneously."

She was silent for a moment, sorting everything out in her mind. The choice had never been hers, she knew. At the same time, she had always felt out of place at the university. Now, she had a goal and purpose. Why fight the feeling of belonging? Christine looked back up, subconsciously surrendering another part of herself. "No. That's fine. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with it now."

"Yes. You can concentrate on other things. You did not seem completely content there, anyway."

"I...I guess I wasn't all of the time. I never really knew where I belonged, or what I wanted to do." She gave a short laugh. "My major was in music education."

"But now you do belong somewhere, Christine. You don't have to worry any longer." He leaned in, his hands neatly folded together.

They were questions in the form of statements, and so she looked up and answered. "Yes," she softly replied. "I'm fine now, Erik. I'm happy."

He relaxed, and they sat there in silence for some time. Christine absentmindedly looked down and flipped through the brochures again. Glancing up about ten minutes later, she saw that he was still basking in her words of reassurance. Placing the brochures aside, she slowly stood up. Erik followed her with his eyes, his shoulders tensing as though he thought she did not want to be in his company any longer. "Could we practice my singing a little now?" she softly asked. "If you have time..."

Erik was on his feet in an instant, already making his way to the back room. "Of course, my dear. There is always time for that."

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Christine quickly followed behind him.

* * *

The last note of the piano faded into the air, and the song finished. Christine shifted her weight and stood there stiffly as Mr. Piane jotted something down into a spiral notebook. Wringing her hands nervously, she quickly glanced around the room. The accompanist, an elderly woman in a polka dot dress, gave her an encouraging smile. Except for the distant echoes of voices and footsteps in the outside corridors, the room was silent. 

She thought she had done fairly well at the audition, aside from coming in a beat late once or twice. The song flowed with much more ease than it had at the banquet, partially because she was no longer worried about what lay ahead. Erik had been intent on making her flawless, and the prior day had been spent touching up her voice with various exercises. During dinner, he had remained at the kitchen table with her as requested, discussing various techniques and styles while she ate. Now that she was no longer in a constant state of anxiety, conversation came more easily. Their hours together had been enjoyable, and she had gone to bed feeling truly happy.

As she waited for Mr. Piane to say something, Christine became more anxious. He continued to look down at his notebook with a furrowed brow and a thoughtful expression. Of course, there would be other chances if this didn't work out. Still, she felt a need to hear some kind of praise...and a need to please Erik.

"All right," Mr. Piane finally said, looking out from beneath his glasses with a smile. "Very nice, Ms. Daae. Excellent job."

She eagerly nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll definitely be in touch with you in the next couple of days," he said, standing up from his chair. "Or maybe with...your vocal coach?"

Christine slowly nodded again, wondering exactly what Erik had told Mr Piane. "Yes. You can call him."

"I will, then. Could I get any personal information from you? A phone number? Cell phone? I'm really not used to having go-betweens...especially if I just want to ask you your schedule on certain days. I'm going to want you to read some lines for me soon." He poised his pen over the notebook.

She swallowed. "I don't really...have a private number. Just call...call my voice teacher."

Mr. Piane frowned slightly but nodded. "Yes. That is what he told me to do. All right, then. I will. Do you have any questions for me? I'm sorry if this is a bit rushed, but I have a meeting in ten minutes."

"No. I don't think so. Thank you for the audition, though."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure, Ms. Daae. Have a good afternoon. I'll be in touch with you soon."

"Thank you. You, too." Feeling relieved that it was over, Christine quickly walked forward and left the room before he could ask any more questions. She didn't know what Erik had told Mr. Piane, and she didn't want to reveal anything that wasn't supposed to be known. Her heels clicked steadily on the grey tiles, softly echoing down the hallway. She felt oddly alone in the empty corridor. It had been some time since she had truly been by herself.

Opening the door of the large brick building, she stepped outside. The air was slightly warmer that day, and a few rays of sunlight shown out from behind the clouds, glinting off the melting snow that still lay upon the ground. Several bicyclists pedaled along the street in front of her, one younger man giving her a half-smile as he raced by.

She searched around for several moments, before finally noticing the familiar black car parked under several barren trees. To anyone else, it would have looked suspicious. To her, it was almost a comfort. Walking over and opening the back door, she found that the backseat was dark and empty. A frown contorted her features as she climbed inside and buckled her seatbelt.

Settling back, Christine was once again surprised when the driver spoke out to her from a speaker. She often forgot that anyone was up there, as if the car were able to drive itself. "To the museum, ma'am?" asked the gruff voice.

She blinked, realizing that she had forgotten her solo trip that afternoon. That was why Erik had not come. When she had asked him if he would be going, he had chuckled wryly. "My dear...one goes to museums to look at things, not to be stared at. You will enjoy yourself without my company." And that was the end of the matter.

A feeling of tiredness settled over her as the car idled in the parking lot. On the one hand, it was occasionally nice to take a break from the tension that still lingered between her and Erik. At the same time, she wasn't sure if she liked this silence. The idea of walking through an enormous museum by herself was unappealing after just getting out of a stressful audition. She felt the need for conversation and company.

"Ma'am?" came the driver's voice again, with a slightly irritated tone.

"Um...no. I'm a little tired. Let's go home. Please."

A short silence followed. "Yes, ma'am."

She relaxed and closed her eyes as the car turned in the opposite direction and followed a familiar route. They were back in the decrepit neighborhood faster than she expected, the car bumping along the cracked roads and jolting her in the seat. Christine sat up straight and prepared to get out, relieved to see that the sun had come out completely. It made the area look less threatening, despite the occasional siren that could still be heard in the distance.

"Thank you," she awkwardly murmured, as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the complex. She received no reply from the driver as she opened the door. Gathering her winter coat, Christine climbed out and made her way down the steep concrete steps. Arriving at the obscure entrance, she turned the knob and realized with some alarm that it was locked. Erik's voice could be faintly heard from the inside, and she curiously placed an ear up to the door.

"You are very aware that I am not involved now?" he icily asked. A pause followed. "Ah! Am I to take it you are threatening me, Mr. Jamison? I should hope not. It would not be in your best interest. Or your _wife's_!" Another long silence passed. Christine shifted nervously."Well, you heard very wrong, my friend. I do not! Not for years." One more pause. "That is information you will never obtain. You will get nothing from me!"

Erik's voice suddenly faded, as if he had gone farther back into the house. Although she was curious, she didn't want to get caught eavesdropping again...not when so much trust had been gained. The conversation was too cryptic to understand anyway. Folding her hand into a fist, Christine softly knocked on the door. She jumped as it swung open within a single second. Erik stared down at her from above, eyes bright yellow with surprise and anger.

"This conversation is a waste of my time," Erik abruptly said into the receiver, his gaze never leaving her. "Do not call me again." Clicking off the phone, he approached her. Christine nearly stepped back, until she saw that his eyes were more confused than angry now. "What are you doing home?" he shrilly enquired. "Surely you could not have been to the museum."

She managed to keep her voice steady. "I'm sorry. I was too tired to go. I...didn't want to after the audition. I'm sorry..."

He just stared at her for several seconds. "Do not be sorry, Christine," he said, his voice now calmer. "I simply did not expect you home. My driver should have notified me. His incompetence is becoming tiresome. But it is in no way your fault." Erik paused, his eyes narrowing. "How long have you been waiting?"

"I...I just got here," she softly replied.

"I see." He slowly moved to let her step inside, gently taking her coat and hanging it near the door. "Did your audition go well?"

She smiled, forgetting the odd event that had just occurred. "Yes! It went well. At least, Mr. Piane seemed happy with it. He wants me to come back."

"Excellent! I told you that there was nothing to worry about. Your voice surpasses anything that they have ever heard. I had wondered if something went wrong...as you were so eager to return here."

Christine shrugged. "No. It went well. I just...didn't feel like going to the museum afterward..."

Erik appeared unusually puzzled. "I see. Perhaps another day, then." She slowly nodded, her lips pursed in uncertainty. "Come. Rest while I prepare dinner." He turned to leave.

"Wait," she said with a swallow. Erik turned back around. "Isn't there any place you ever go? Any sights? I'm not used to the city. I just want someone..." Christine trailed off, feeling horribly awkward in the short silence.

"You do not wish to go out alone?" he softly enquired, his voice etched with what sounded like hope. "Is that what you are saying? Christine...?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to reach out and clutch onto her shoulders in joy. Still, she didn't move, keeping her gaze steady. "I don't really like to go out by myself. But if there's any place that you ever go..."

Although Erik refrained from coming any closer, his longing eyes said everything. Her heart rate quickened, but it was not in fear this time...not at all.

"Yes," he finally answered. "Occasionally, I do go out. I do, Christine."

* * *

A large purple and blue bruise on the Iranian's forehead served as a vivid reminder to his encounter with Erik. Every so often, Nadir's temple would begin to throb, and he would have to stop whatever he was doing and clutch his head. Several small scrapes also lined his arm from where he had hit the street. Hours had passed before he had finally awoken to find himself staring up at the cloud-covered sky. It was a miracle that his car hadn't been stolen, or that he hadn't been mugged while he was unconscious. 

After picking his cold, sore body up from the ground, the Iranian had shakily crawled into his car. The engine had grunted in protest as he turned the key, but, to his utmost relief, finally ran with a steady hum. Turning up the heat as far as it would go, he had just sat there for several moments, attempting to recover his inhibitions. The effects of the drug slowly began to wear off.

In more ways than one, he was lucky to be alive. If he were smart, he would leave the city now...get as far away from Erik as possible. What did he possibly have left to gain? Wasn't he crazy if he continued to stay?

Yet, a lingering worry still plagued him over the fate of Ms. Daae. The idea of an innocent, young woman under Erik's care was almost frightening. No matter how happy Christine seemed, it was something he never would have imagined. Not Erik. Not the man who could strangle a life away with the flick of a wrist... who had created chemicals that were capable of eating the flesh off a person's body in mere seconds.

Over a decade ago, Nadir had watched him test the vile acid on a live human being. A twenty-two year old Erik had indifferently looked on as the man in front of him screamed in agony, the skin on the poor wretch's arm turning into nothing but a mass of thick purple ooze. The Iranian had turned his head, unable to watch at the time.

_It works too slowly _Erik had commented, examining the carnage with a scientist's eye. His victim had already fainted from the pain. _I will have to lower the pH...make it stronger. Wouldn't you agree, Nadir? _

Nadir had little choice but to sickly nod.

_Very good, then. Have the other arm prepared! And wake him up so that we are able to obtain a proper reaction! I will return shortly. _

They had tested that godforsaken substance seven times before Erik was satisfied...another demonic creation in a long line of many. Still staring out the window of his car that night, Nadir had shuddered in memory.

And that was why the Iranian couldn't bring himself to leave Christine Daae to fend for herself. Not yet...Not yet..._What if she had simply learned to passively accept her captivity, the poor girl._

Although he hadn't been able to follow Erik home, at least he now had a general idea of where his masked friend lived. Surely that black car would pass this way again. Knowing that nothing could be done that night, though, Nadir had shakily turned his car around and headed back to his apartment. It was all he could do to keep the vehicle on the road, especially with the remaining patches of ice and his throbbing head.

Returning home in one piece, Nadir had collapsed into bed and slept late into the morning, his mind full of unpleasant thoughts and memories. The next day, after forcing down a bowl of cereal into his nauseated stomach and cleaning out some of his cuts, he had set out to complete his mission. Luckily, he had rented a car that could be traded in at any location within that rental business. To ensure that he would not immediately be recognized, Nadir had exchanged the grey Toyota for a dark-blue Honda Civic. The new car was small, fast, and would be difficult to see at night.

After grabbing a cup of black coffee, he returned to the same area as before, waiting and watching as dozens of cars raced past him through the older neighborhood. He drove around cracked buildings and apartment complexes...searching for any sign of them. Absolutely nothing had turned up on the first day.

There was nothing on the second day, either. One of the cuts on his arm had become a dark shade of red, and he hoped it wasn't becoming infected. Nadir was growing more exhausted as each hour passed, sustaining on fast food for every meal.

Again, on the third day, he came out early in the morning. The night had been restless, and he had gotten little sleep. Still, he waited, nodding off at the steering wheel every couple of minutes. Cars and trucks continued to pass. Pedestrians gave him curious looks. Rubbing his hands over his tired face, Nadir looked toward the sky hopelessly. Was he to spend the rest of his life waiting there? Surely he would go insane sooner or later.

Late that afternoon, though, fortune seemed to smile down upon him. As he was taking a bite out of a grilled chicken sandwich, continuing to watch the roads, the black car flashed in front of his vision. Tossing his sandwich aside and shifting the car out of park, he quickly began to follow. Nadir carefully stayed behind other cars, blending in with the approaching shadows of the evening. The traffic became heavier with rush hour, and he was forced to carefully weave in between cars to keep up.

_You won't get away, Erik. Not this time. You're going to let that girl go. _

Maybe he was being obsessive...almost crazy with exhaustion, but Nadir was tired of these games. If this didn't work, he would get the police involved. Christine Daae's life would not be destroyed.

Over thirty minutes later, the black car finally swerved to the side of the street next to a large array of brightly lit buildings. White pillars stood tall at one of the front entrances. As the sun had almost set, most of the street lamps had come on, casting a hazy glow over the ground. People walked all around him. Most men were dressed in formalwear, and women wore expensive gowns and jewelry that sparkled in the dim lights.

Nadir craned his neck as he continued to follow the black car, trying to figure out exactly where he was. A concert hall of some sort? He still hadn't learned his way around the city. Sighing in confusion, the Iranian turned his attention back to the vehicle, staying concealed behind two stalled SUVs. The black car was now slowing to a stop near the front of the buildings.

Within several seconds, the door on the left opened. Nadir watched as Erik gracefully stepped out, practically invisible in his dark suit and black mask. He walked to the other side of the car and opened the door. Within another moment, Christine Daae had stepped out as well, wearing a glossy light-blue dress that trailed down to her feet. Her blonde hair was done up in an elaborate array of barrettes. A silver bracelet glimmered on her arm. In the lights, Nadir could see a small smile on her pretty face. He continued to watch carefully.

They began to walk forward together, almost oblivious to their surroundings. Erik must have said something behind the mask, for Christine smiled again and spoke back.

Then, Nadir watched as Ms. Daae slowly reached out a small hand and placed it upon Erik's arm. His masked comrade tilted his head up in slight surprise, before confidently leading her toward the elaborate building. Even from this distance, Nadir could see the pair of yellow dots glowing with something akin to joy.

He watched as Erik slowly took Ms. Daae's hand and guided her inside of the building. He watched their forms fade away into the masses of other people.

And, then, Nadir turned around and drove home in defeat.

Still, though, he did not leave.

Not yet.


	30. Chapter 30

I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. It's definitely one of the fluffier ones, but it also begins the build toward the climax. Hopefully you'll see what I mean. I also used a bit of realistic description in this chapter, using mostly photographs and such. I tried to be accurate, but please tell me if something's just plain off. (In a nice way, please :) )

Some of you have asked about Christine having a chance to return to her old life, see Meg, etc. Let me just say that I'm fully aware she is still a prisoner, even if she's not sure about it. Lol. I write Christine's character mostly outside of myself. Whether her thoughts are sane and rational is for you to decide, but I doubt I'll let her get through the story without some sort of wake-up call. Erik, on the other hand, is directly from my psyche...j/k...sorta ;)

Thank you for your wonderful support as always!

**Read and Review!**

After Christine had softly asked Erik if he would accompany her to any destination, he had immediately suggested the Metropolitan Opera House, claiming that it was one the few places he both enjoyed and could remain unnoticed. He stated that, because everyone was so concerned with their own appearances, they failed to take a second glance at anyone else. Christine had eagerly agreed to go, as it was another place she'd only heard about from college acquaintances and textbooks. She'd been to very few live performances in her life, much less an actual opera, and the thought of attending one was exciting. Christine was also thankful that she would no longer be touring the city alone, finding herself very content to be going with Erik. He knew much more about the performance than she ever would.

Not to her surprise, Erik was able to procure tickets for the show, _Aida_, almost instantaneously. The day after her audition with Mr. Piane, after many hours spent rehearsing with Erik, she began to dress for the occasion. Although the silky blue gown had always been in her closet, she had never had any reason to wear it, preferring to dress as modestly as possible. Now, though, she slipped it over her head and zipped it up, feeling the soft material flow over her torso and legs. Taking some of the various accessories out of the top dresser drawer, she did her hair up with various silver clips and barrettes. Staring down at herself, Christine suddenly wished she had a full length mirror to gaze into. She felt the odd need to look nice that night.

With a final glance in the hand mirror, she slowly emerged from her room. As the sitting area was a little chilly, she wrapped her arms around herself and approached Erik. He was dressed slightly more formally than usual, his dark suit pressed and fitting less loosely against his painfully thin frame. Christine shifted and blushed as his eyes gazed over her.

"Perfect," he quietly stated.

She smiled. "Thank you. I'd forgotten it was even in there. But it's not too formal?"

"No. It is perfect."

Her cheeks tingled with warmth as they left the tiny apartment and entered into the January air. Everything seemed unusually peaceful that evening, even in the normally tumultuous neighborhood. The only sound was a lone dog, barking shrilly in the distance. All else was quiet as they climbed into the awaiting black vehicle.

"I hope you will enjoy the performance," Erik casually stated, once they were both settled and the car was making its way forward. "You have never been to an opera?"

"No," she replied, feeling a little uncultured. "I never had the chance. We studied some in my courses."

Erik laughed with good humor. The sound was richer and more pleasant than the cold chuckles she often heard from behind the mask. "You could learn little of opera and music from studying pointless texts. No. You must experience it. But I am quite sure that you will enjoy it."

"I'm sure that I'll like it," she replied, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. Christine hesitated. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Of course," he replied, never looking away from her.

After a short silence, Erik continued to discuss both the opera and her upcoming opportunities. She nodded at his suggestions and ideas regarding her singing, occasionally contributing a comment. The atmosphere in the car was tranquil and relaxed. Now that she wasn't constantly worrying, Christine was beginning to notice her surroundings...the sights of the city...Erik's simple gestures. She was starting to willingly settle into this new life, attempting to let go of any doubts or feelings of wrongness.

Christine was in silent awe as she first looked upon the white building with its many arched entryways and sparkling fountain at the front. The enormous windows were brightly lit up, a stark contrast to the night sky. Other buildings surrounded it, but she could clearly identify the Met from the many pictures she had seen. "Wow..." she softly murmured.

"Yes," he agreed. "It is a bit flamboyant for my tastes. Nevertheless, it is an interesting piece of architecture."

After Erik stepped out, Christine attempted to open her door but found it to be locked. Within a second, though, he came around and opened it for her. She murmured her thanks as she stepped out onto the pavement, beginning to find that he had a certain old-fashioned etiquette. "Come," Erik said, gesturing forward. "I wish to get in early...before the crowds."

It was the first time that she had seen him in public, aside from his ethereal presence at the cemetery and when he had first taken her away. Erik was visibly alert, standing at full height and walking with a stiff gait. His eyes moved back in forth with suspicion, like those of a snake ready to dart at anything that crossed its path. He avoided the lighted patches of ground, keeping toward the shadows whenever possible. Perhaps it was his tense stature that caused Christine to take a hand and place it upon his arm as they walked forward. She felt an affectionate need to calm him...to let him know she was there. Erik glanced at her with delighted surprise, but she kept her gaze forward, allowing her palm to rest on the soft material of the suit.

As they walked into the illuminated building, he slowly moved his arm and took her hand. His flesh was still cold, but his fingers were only lightly brushing her skin. From the corner of her eye, she could see him check her expression for a negative reaction. As a warm smile graced her face, Erik turned and led them both inside. A torrent of voices and sounds immediately met her ears, and she blinked several times in the glaring lights. Although Christine wanted to take a moment and look around at the lavish entryway, Erik was intent on moving forward.

She quietly watched as he handed over two tickets. As they were in a darker area now, the ticket taker seemed fairly disinterested in the looming masked man, gesturing upward toward their area with a bored expression. Taking her hand more firmly, Erik lead her up a long set of stairs. "We are in the balcony," he stated. Christine moved quickly to keep up with his long stride, finding herself almost out of breath as they reached their seating area, a balcony box set to the right side of the room.

"Oh!" she softly exclaimed, entering and gazing downward toward the reds and golds that decked the walls and seats of the enormous circular room. Majestic was the best word to describe the sight.

"Do you like it?" he enquired, seeming to take more pleasure in her excitement than in the view. "We can see everything yet never be seen."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, focusing her gaze on the closed curtains atop the stage. "It's great! Gorgeous. The seats are wonderful!"

"Good. I had hoped you would." Erik settled back into his seat with a content look in his eyes. Christine watched as other people began to fill in, still in awe by the entire spectacle. There were thousands of seats, and she understood what Erik meant when he said that they would never be noticed by anyone else. Everyone seemed to blend into the surroundings, a collage of expensive clothing and made-up faces.

Taking in her fill of the sights around her, Christine finally sat down and gazed at the empty plush seats that still surrounded them in the balcony. "Will anyone else come into our section?"

"No," he firmly stated. "No one will bother us."

"Oh." She could only gather that he had made an arrangement beforehand but asked no more questions. Erik had brought her there, and she was nothing but grateful.

When the orchestra began some time later, Christine no longer even noticed her close surroundings. As the curtain swept opened, she became caught up in the enormous spectacle before her, the Egyptian costumes and rich singing. The tragic story of Aida, Radamès, and Amneris unfolded before her eyes, and she was able to push everything but the opera from her mind. For the rest of the evening, she allowed herself to forget her anxiety...forget everything...and lose her thoughts in the enormous world of make-believe on stage.

Tears ran down her cheeks when the performance ended several hours later, and she enthusiastically clapped with the rest of the audience. Forcing her eyes away from the stage, she turned to see Erik watching her and quickly wiped her face dry in embarrassment. "Did you enjoy it?" he questioned over the noise.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, facing him completely. "It was wonderful. Thank you so much for taking me. For everything." Perhaps it was from the adrenaline of the evening, but she felt a sense of closeness sweep through her...a mutual need. And how could she not feel something...after all he had done...when he loved her so much. Her sudden thoughts and bright surroundings were almost making her dizzy.

"Excellent." She sensed him smiling behind the mask. His eyes then narrowed in concern as he saw her distant expression. "Perhaps we should return now. You are beginning to look tired."

Still lightheaded, Christine allowed Erik to lead her out of the balcony box and back down the stairs. Feeling as though she were waltzing through a dreamworld, she was only able to focus when the cold outside air stung her cheeks. He quickly led her to the car and opened the door. Tiredness engulfed her as she settled into the cozy backseat. A smile crossed her faced as she leaned her head onto the headrest.

"You may sleep until we arrive home," Erik stated, once he was inside. "I fear that you have worn yourself out in a single night."

She nodded and took his advice, vaguely feeling him brush his hand against her cheek as she closed her eyes and drifted into a deep slumber.

* * *

_I do not think this is the best place for you to begin your life, Erik. Not with your genius and abilities. Some of the stuff you can do is...like nothing I have seen. Why not get away while you can? Start a life somewhere? _

_And where would the fun be in that, Nadir?_ _Where else would I possibly belong? _

_You don't belong with all this death. No one does. Why don't you leave this country? Find a good job. A wife, even. _

Erik had laughed, the sound causing Nadir to shiver. _I find I fit in rather well with all this death. It suits me perfectly, really. _The yellow slits narrowed bitterly. _And I will never have a wife. _

The Iranian paused. _I do not understand. Why do you think you belong here? _

_That is right, Nadir. _Erik's tone became slightly distant. _You have never seen beneath the mask, have you? No wonder you are so hopelessly confused._

_No. You're right. I have not. Why don't you show me? We have known each other for several months now._

_I'd be doing you a favor by not. _

_Come. _Nadir said with frustration. _It can't be so bad as to damn you to this occupation._

_No._

_Really, Erik! In this day and age…..How terrible can it be to make you think you cannot strive for more? It cannot be that bad._

The eyes glowed like hot embers. The Iranian had shrunk back, wondering if had stepped too far with the angry, young man. There was something very eerie about the newcomer. A chilly silence passed. _Oh….but it is….._Erik finally said, bringing a skeletal hand up to his face. In a single motion, he ripped off the black mask. ……...

Nadir woke up on the sofa, sweat pouring down his face as the horrific image flashed through his mind. His heart pounded quickly, and a chill ran through him as he pulled himself upright. The Iranian's entire body ached with the exertion of the last several days. The dream, or rather nightmare, hadn't helped. That day was now many years passed, and he could still picture those two black eye sockets gazing at him with heart wrenching pain and frightening rage.

For a moment, he believed that the nightmare had been his only reason for waking. When a high-pitched tone rang out from behind him again, though, he realized that someone was calling. Nadir cursed, tiredly groping around and trying to grasp the phone into his sweaty palm. "Now what?" he muttered to himself, as he finally grabbed onto it. Maybe it was Erik calling with another round of death threats. He hoped it was a wrong number.

"Hello?" Nadir asked, after clearing his throat of sleep.

"Mr. Khan?" The voice was slightly familiar, but it did not belong to Erik.

"This is he," Nadir replied with caution. "Who is this?"

"You may remember me from a month or so back. Mr. Weiss. From the Federal Bureau of Investigation's office in Boston."

The Iranian's heart jumped inside of his chest. _Why the hell hadn't he changed phone numbers at some point? _"Mr. Weiss," he stated in a slightly choked voice. "How can I help you?"

"I think that you may know the answer to that question, sir," he replied. "People don't usually have the audacity to run out of FBI offices without so much as a word. Did you think I would just dismiss you as a lunatic?" Nadir opened his mouth but could give no reply. Mr. Weiss chuckled. "Actually, I almost did. Until I started thumbing through Buquet's files. I think he had more in there than he knew about."

Nadir clenched his other fist, tired of playing head games. "What do you want, Mr. Weiss? I've had a nightmare of a week."

"I want to know exactly what you know. If some of the stuff in this file is true, we have a real threat to national security. Are you fully aware of that, Mr. Khan?"

"I can assure you that there is no _threat_ to national security."

"That's good to know," Mr. Weiss replied, wryly. "Anyway, I don't want to discuss any more of this over the phone. I'd like to schedule another meeting with you. You can tell me what you know. If it helps the case, I'll tell you what I know."

Nadir hesitated, scanning through the decision in his mind. Was it time to bring Erik down? Getting the US government involved could only lead to a mess, though. He had no doubt that Erik would find out of the plans before they ever got to him. No. This wasn't the solution. "I don't think I have anything of significance to say to you, Mr. Weiss. I have nothing to tell you."

"If this information proves true and you were involved in it, are you aware that you would be committing a whole book of federal offenses? We're talking at least a life sentence, sir."

"I am doing nothing illegal," the Iranian stated, feeling anger arise in him. "Do you have proof that I am? Anything material?"

Mr. Weiss chuckled. "You have studied our customs, haven't you? Innocent until proven guilty? No. I have nothing to accuse you of yet. But I'm still searching. And I'm getting closer."

"What do you mean?" Nadir asked, more frantically than he meant to. "What are you doing?"

"You sound a little alarmed, Mr. Khan. I'm afraid I can't give away any details." Some papers shuffled in the background. "That is, unless you want to give me some more information."

"No. I told you. I don't know anything. I'm sorry." The Iranian wondered if his number could be traced.

"I see. Well, have a good evening, Mr. Khan. You know how to reach me if something suddenly crosses your mind." The phone call ended with an abrupt click. Nadir just sat there with his ear to the receiver, staring blankly at the chipped walls of his apartment. The air seemed colder. An uncomfortable silence swept through the room.

There was no doubt that Erik would find out if he were being closed in on, especially at the slow rate Mr. Weiss was going. His masked friend was used to fleeing from one place to another, always one step ahead of those after him. Of course, a girl had never factored into the picture before. Was it possible that she could cloud his judgement? Somehow be his downfall?

Or would Erik simply take her with him...swoop Christine Daae off to the ends of the earth where no soul could ever find her?

While fear, anger, and anxiety had dominated Nadir's emotions for the last few weeks, a hollow sadness now engulfed him. He suddenly wondered if Ms. Daae's current happiness might be the best thing for everyone. At least she wouldn't be miserable if Erik took her away. Maybe she would even serve as an anchor for Erik's questionable sanity. It was certainly possible.

The Iranian attempted to console himself. _Maybe she would even enjoy traveling to other places after being stuck in that tiny town. Maybe she was genuinely happy in the cozy little world Erik had created for her. _

He sighed, knowing that there was no solution to any of this. Right and wrong had become obsolete.

If Erik were ever forced to let Ms. Daae go, though, they may all be damned.

* * *

Waking up later than usual the following morning, Christine had found a copy of the _New York Times _lying upon the kitchen table, very close to the place she usually sat. Erik would often ask her if she was in need of anything at the house. The last time, she had hesitantly told him that she felt a little distanced from the rest of the world. She was happy, of course, but she wanted to know what was happening in her absence. He'd nodded in understanding and told her he would get her a periodical of some kind. 

She smiled at his thoughtfulness as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Christine began to flip through the newspaper, glancing around at the headlines.

Nothing of immediate interest caught her eyes. Everything seemed the same as it had been before her disappearance. Bad weather could be moving through New England again, but that was nothing new. World affairs had stayed the same.

After an hour or so passed, Christine glanced up from the black print and realized that Erik had not yet emerged from his room. Listening carefully, she thought she heard his voice on several occasions but was never sure. Erik's whispers could be almost inaudible. Absentmindedly fingering the edge of the tablecloth, she thought back to last night with a sense of joy, remembering the warm contentment and bliss. That evening had been indescribable, wrapped in the breathtaking music with Erik beside her. She had wanted it to last longer than it did. Every troubling thought had fled her mind in those hours.

A cloud of confusion draped itself over her, and the lines between right and wrong became blurred and misshapen. Was she still a captive? No. She couldn't be. Captives weren't allowed to go out by themselves or make phone calls. She was choosing to be here. Desperately, Christine wanted everything to be okay as it was. Never had she felt this way before, both at peace and exhilarated. No. She couldn't be a prisoner.

Tired of sitting at the table, Christine got up and wandered into the quiet living area. Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts anymore, she longed for company. Maybe Erik would give her a voice lesson that morning. That would take her mind off things. Anxiously sitting on the sofa, she waited for him to come out, having nothing else to do but stare at the figurines that lined the walls. The serpent clock said that it was just past nine.

When Erik did finally emerge nearly an hour later, an instant tension entered the room with him. Christine whirled around on the sofa to look up at him, startled when she saw a strange look in the glowing eyes, a franticness almost. The orbs softened when they looked upon her, seeming to take relief from her presence. He walked into the living area in quick strides.

"Good morning," she said with uncertainty, turning to look at him. "Is...is something wrong?"

"No," he sharply replied, coming very close to the sofa and standing above her. "Nothing is wrong, Christine. There has simply been a change of plans."

"What do you mean?"

Erik folded his hands together. "First, I do not think that Mr. Piane's production is right for you. Not at all. You are much better than he deserves." He spoke quickly and forcefully, thereby ensuring she would not argue with him.

She slowly nodded, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "All right, Erik. If you think so. That's fine."

He nodded. "Yes. That is what I think. I promise to secure you another performance. A better one. You do believe me?"

"Of course," she replied. "Is something wrong? Did I..."

"No. You did nothing." Erik was silent for a moment, slowly trailing the tips of his fingers over her hair. "I would give you anything. Everything that I do is for you. You do understand that?"

"Yes. I know, Erik. You have given me everything. I don't know how to thank you."

"You have stayed, Christine! That is enough." He entwined her blonde strands into his fingers almost possessively. "And I won't lose you. Ever. I will never lose you."

Something was wrong. There was something almost fearful in his eyes. "I'm staying," she replied, trying to bring him comfort. "I've told you that I'm happy here. And last night...was one of the most wonderful times of my life. I'm not going to leave."

"You wouldn't leave me, Christine. I know." He paused. "It is just that I must...run several errands over the next week. Some may take time. I fear that I can not take you along, but I will attempt to be back every night."

"Oh," she whispered. "Do you...want me to go leave? I mean...for a little while?"

"No!" he exclaimed, startling her slightly. "I would prefer you stay here. If you would like, I will have one of my drivers take you out during the day. But I will not be able to accompany you often. I wish you to stay here, though." Removing his hand from her hair, he ran his fingers over the smooth onyx stone upon her finger.

The longing in his eyes no longer frightened her, but she did wonder what had caused this tension. She gently touched his hand. "Then I'll stay," she replied.

"Yes. I know. You will stay."

He looked down upon her with such adoration that she almost felt the need to throw her arms around his emaciated shoulders and give him peace. But her words were enough. "I will. Why would I leave now? You've...helped me and...been there for me. I…I want to be here." Her eyes glistened a little with the intensity of the moment.

He wrapped his cold hand around hers. "Yes. We will be fine. Nothing will come between us, my Christine. All will be fine."

She smiled and nodded, overcome with a medley of emotions. Confusion...uncertainty...joy...belonging...and something that she could not identify. All raced through her mind.

"Everything will be fine," she softly agreed, allowing him to cling to her hand. Minutes passed before he finally let go.

No more than a week later, she would find these same comforting words being repeated to her.

_Everything will be fine, Christine. I promise. _

Never were they true.


	31. Chapter 31

I almost feel guilty writing this chapter, as you're optimistic reviews make me smile. I even considered dropping the coming events in favor of something softer. This last third or fourth of my story has been planned for some time, though, and I've really been looking forward to writing it. I hope everyone keeps reading…even when things seem dismal. So hold on tight!

**Read and Review!**

By three o'clock of the following afternoon, Christine could sense a feeling of anxiety slowly building inside of her. Perhaps it was because she had been in solitude for most of the day. Erik had departed early that morning, leaving her with her overwhelming thoughts and questions.

Not that she was forced to stay there by herself.

"Are you sure you do not wish to go out today?" he had enquired, as he prepared to leave. "I can arrange for the driver to take you to a place of your choosing. As long as you are back by evening, I see no problems."

She had hesitated, still not liking the idea of touring the city by herself. "No. I'm fine here today. Maybe tomorrow I'll go out."

Erik had looked down upon her, affectionately brushing the tips of his fingers against her cheek. "Very well, then. I will see you this evening."

Christine smiled, her face tingling. "All right. I'll be here."

"I know that you will."

With one last glance toward her, Erik left the house, the door locking with a sharp click behind him. She briefly wondered if it was locked from the inside but decided that it didn't matter. There was no reason to try to leave. Feeling somewhat content in the cozy living area, she had curled up on the leather couch with a novel and read for several hours. When lunchtime had finally arrived, Christine had sauntered into the kitchen and made a sandwich with the expensive cuts of meat that Erik often bought. She looked around the room as she ate, beginning to feel uncomfortable in the ever-present silence. The only other sounds were the ticking clock and an occasional noise from outside.

Her thoughts began to creep up on her again, sliding out of the darker corners of her mind. Where exactly had Erik gone? Why had he seemed so panicked the other day? Why had her auditions with Mr. Piane not worked out? He had seemed pleased with her performance.

After pushing her bothersome curiosities away, Christine suddenly felt the strong need for company. When would Erik be home? She was beginning to enjoy their time together more and more, the quiet conversations and entrancing voice lessons. The longing in his eyes no longer frightened her as it once did, and she often felt the need to return the affection...to let him know that she did care.

It was the truth. Over the last week, a gradual feeling was growing inside of her. She couldn't explain it except as a desire to share in his company...even to share their brief moments of contact...even while knowing what lay beneath the mask. The feeling was both pleasant and confusing...enthralling and frightening. Another cloud of uncertainty fought its way into her mind. Getting up from the couch, she aimlessly wandered into her bedroom, straightening the shelves and smoothing out the lacy dress of the porcelain doll.

The silence would begin to drive her crazy in several days. Maybe she would take Erik's advice and go out tomorrow. Touring the museum alone couldn't be that difficult.

As she stepped out of her dim bedroom and back into the living area, Christine suddenly noticed a strange smell wafting through the air. It was a very faint odor, slightly bitter, slightly sweet, and somewhat familiar. Crinkling her nose, Christine wondered if it was some kind of food or something coming in from outside.

With nothing else to do, she walked back into the kitchen but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No jars or cans of food had been opened that would emit such a scent. The trash held no strange contents. Slowly, she walked even farther back to Erik's room and peeked in through the open door. Everything looked as it always had. The strange six-sided bed was neatly made, the music from their last practice was stacked atop the piano, and the figurines were all in their proper places.

Her eyes suddenly fell upon the hidden door….the one Erik had warned her to stay away from on her first tour of the house. For the first time, she noticed that it was just slightly open, leaving the entrance more visible to the human eye. The odor did seem stronger now, a pungent and sour smell that she still couldn't identify.

Christine's gaze lingered upon the knobless gray door, and she could feel her accursed curiosity building again...just as it had when she had torn off the black porcelain. She shuddered, remembering the rage and despair in the two eye sockets and twisted mouth. To lose Erik's trust would be unbearable. To see him angry again would be even worse.

Swallowing, she attempted to ignore the smell, leaving Erik's room and shutting the door tightly behind her. Returning to the couch, she picked up a book and forced herself to concentrate, often looking over the same sentence three times before she had actually read it.

Erik finally returned late that afternoon, a few hours earlier than she had expected him home. Christine looked up with a genuine smile as he entered the room. He nodded in greeting, his shoulders appearing slightly more relaxed than they had that morning. "Good afternoon, Christine. Did you enjoy your day here? Or did you nearly die of boredom?" His tone was one of good humor.

She laughed. "I was fine. But I might try going out tomorrow...if that's okay."

"Of course," he replied. "Decide where you want to go, and I will arrange it with the driver."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll give the museum another try."

"I imagine that you will enjoy it." Erik glanced at the clock and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. "Come. I will make you dinner now. If I ever believe that I will be later than this, something will already be prepared for you. This inconvenient arrangement should not last long if all goes accordingly." A troubled looked entered his eyes.

Christine gazed curiously at him, wishing he would explain his cause of distress. When he didn't, she pushed the matter aside and resumed a cheerful tone. "That's fine! There's plenty to eat in the kitchen. You don't have to worry about me."

He fondly brushed his hand against her long hair. "Yes. You are capable of taking care of yourself, aren't you? Still, I wish you to stay as comfortable as possible. As soon as I accomplish several more tasks, we can return to living normally again...focusing on your career. "

Christine leaned into his hand slightly, watching as his eyes lit up. "All right," she replied. "But I am fine here. You don't have to hurry with your...errands."

She thought she heard Erik softly sigh, before he withdrew his hand and motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. Christine stood up and obediently followed. The bitter odor still hung in the air, growing stronger as they entered the kitchen and became nearer to the back bedroom. For a moment, Christine even considered asking Erik if he knew what it was.

Then, she suddenly wondered if he even had a sense of smell, and that thought caused a new wave of sympathy to wash over her. Erik again had that vulnerable look about him as he quietly prepared her dinner, his concentration focused downward with the utmost care. Smiling, she forgot her questions and momentarily watched him, tenderly brushing her hand against his shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

The smell of the cooking food engulfed the room, quickly suppressing the strange odor from the air. It was a pot roast and vegetable dish, cooked in a southern style that Mrs. Valerius had often used when she was in better health. The scent immediately brought a melancholy feeling to Christine as she waited at the table, remembering family dinners from her past. Mrs. Valerius and her husband would often come out to the lake and cook for her and her father. Raoul had even joined them on several occasions, thrilled to get away from his own family for a few hours. Talking and laughing under the wooden roof of the porch, they all watched as the orange sun descended behind the trees, content to forget their problems in the tranquility of the warm evening.

She frowned slightly as she picked up her fork and began to eat. How long had it been since she had thought of such things? And Mrs. Valerius…..she hadn't called the hospital in several days. Erik immediately noticed her expression. "Is something wrong, Christine? It is a different style than you may be used to."

"No." She looked up and smiled. "It's wonderful. I just…" She hesitated and picked at a carrot. "I wanted to know if I could call the hospital this evening. It's been several days, and I just wanted to know..." Her voice tapered off.

Erik slowly nodded in understanding, although he seemed displeased. "Those phone calls put you in such distress, that I do wonder if they are the best thing for you. But if you feel that you must."

She smiled in gratitude, feeling her muscles relax. "Thank you. I think that it will put me at ease. I just…hate not knowing."

Erik curtly nodded. "Very well. After dinner, then."

Christine finished her meal in a comfortable silence, occasionally answering Erik's questions about her singing or seeing the city. She smiled frequently, and he seemed to be in a good mood that evening, always content to be in her company. After her plate was empty, she began to take it to the sink. Erik lightly touched her wrist. "I will take care of it, Christine. Call your guardian." He hesitantly took the cellular phone from his pocket and handed it to her.

She smiled. "Thank you, Erik. I'll be quick."

Going back into the living area, she sat down on the leather sofa and dialed the operator with shaking fingers. After several long waits, she was finally directed to the correct ward. The phone rang three times before a nurse finally picked up. "Oncology ward."

Christine swallowed, her heart racing as it always did during this phone call. "Hi. My name is Christine Daae. I'm a close relative of Hazel Valerius and would just like to know her present condition."

"One moment please," the woman replied in a tired voice, perhaps just about to come off a long shift.

A lengthy silence passed...longer than usual. In the background, she could hear the faint sound of voices and the rustling of papers. Christine subconsciously dug her fingers into the armrest of the sofa. Erik came to stand behind her.

"Ms. Daae?" the nurse hesitantly began.

"Yes?"

"I am very sorry to inform you that Mrs. Valerius will be taken off life support tomorrow morning. She is no longer at all responsive to her surroundings, and there is nothing left that can be done. Several of her distant relatives have been contacted. You have my sincere apologies if we somehow skipped over your number."

Christine nearly choked, feeling a nauseating sensation quickly gathering in the pit of her stomach. A chill ran through her, and the room swayed slightly. Of course, she had been expecting the news at some point, but nothing ever prepares one for the event. From behind her, she felt Erik place a hand upon her shoulder. "I…no," she stuttered. "You didn't have my number. I…Thank you. I'll be down there soon."

"I am sorry, ma'am," the nurse said kindly. I'm not sure what your arrangements are. Maybe you can get into contact with the rest of her family."

"All right," she whispered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ms. Daae. You have our condolences."

Christine numbly clicked off the phone and placed her head into her hands. No tears came yet, but the sick sensation lingered inside of her stomach, along with the faint feeling of guilt. _She couldn't even be there. _

"The news is not good?" Erik softly questioned.

Christine shook her head. "They're taking her off life support tomorrow," she murmured, staring blankly at the floor. "She's not responsive."

"I am sorry," he replied with sincerity. "Such news is never easy."

She was silent for a moment, trying to find some stability in the confusion. One thing finally seemed to stand clear. Gathering her resolve, Christine asked the question. "Erik? I…I need to go back for a little while. All my belongings are still at the apartment. And the funeral. I want to be there for that." Several tears now streamed down her cheeks. "Just for a little while. And then I'll come back."

All stood quiet for several seconds. She kept her gaze downward, not wanting to see the fear that must now be gathering in his eyes. "Perhaps..." he began, his voice laced with tension. "Perhaps now would be the best time for you to close that part of your life… gather your possessions and say your goodbyes. And I...I will complete my errands in a quicker fashion."

She eagerly nodded. "Yes. You have things to do, too. And I can finish up everything in Vermont."

Erik gripped her shoulder tighter now, just below the point of discomfort. "In a week-yes, a week should be enough-you will return. I will have accomplished what must be done by that time. We can then resume as we were. All else can be placed behind us and forgotten. Only you and I will matter."

"Yes," she agreed, still grateful that he was allowing her to go. "A week will be perfect. Maybe not even that long."

"And then you will return," he said, a slight warning tone in his calm voice.

"Of course, Erik. I'll come back….and I won't have to return to Vermont anymore."

"Very well," he warily replied. "As my driver is occupied with me tomorrow, I will ensure that someone else picks you up in the morning. Around nine, perhaps. " He paused. "Although I do despise allowing you to venture up there by yourself." His yellow eyes narrowed.

"I'll be fine," Christine gently replied, placing her hand atop his. "I promise. It's only one week."

Erik slowly nodded. "Fine. One week. I suppose you have dealt with the world before."

"I have. I'll be fine."

He lifted his hand from her shoulder. "Wait here," he commanded, suddenly turning around and rushing into his chambers.

Christine glanced up in surprise but obediently stayed upon the couch, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Erik emerged seconds later with a small white box in hand, his eyes aglow. "I had planned to give this to you at a later time, perhaps after a performance. But now will do." Quickly opening the lid, he removed a bracelet. Tiny white diamonds hung along a small golden chain, sparkling in the dim lamp light. Momentarily forgetting her melancholy, she let out a gasp of delight.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes from all the emotion of the evening. "You shouldn't have done this...I..."

"Nonsense. It is perfect for you." He undid the clasp and motioned for her to hold out her arm. She quickly did so, allowing him to wrap the cool piece of jewelry around her small wrist. "Just as I thought," he stated, staring downward. "Perfect."

"Thank you so much, Erik. Thank you."

He just watched her for several moments. Then, taking her right hand into his left, he slowly held it up to his masked cheek. Christine could feel the cold porcelain beneath her fingers. Her heart pounded quickly, and an encompassing warm came over her. She suddenly didn't want to leave. Everything was so perfect in the tiny apartment. She was so very loved….so very safe and protected.

But it would only be for a week, after all. Just a single week to clear everything in Vermont up. Then, she would return. She would return to this small paradise.

He finally released her hand, his eyes a shade of bright gold. "Come, my Christine. We will make arrangements for your short visit."

She nodded, a tearful smile upon her flushed face.

It was only for a week.

* * *

The night was restless. With the knowledge of what lay ahead, Christine frequently tossed and turned, disconcerting thoughts running through her mind. It would be the first time she had been alone in a while, for one thing. And what was she supposed to do with her many belongings? Not everything would fit in the black car. Then….there was still a burning curiosity as to what Erik had been doing in those last few days. A part of her didn't want to know, yet she couldn't push it from her mind. 

Finally, she woke up from a shallow slumber and decided that it had to be morning. Flipping on a light, she looked at the red digits on a small clock by her bedside and saw that it was six. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Christine decided to get up and tell Erik goodbye before he left on his errand. Their parting moment last night had been strangely abrupt.

They had separated shortly after he had given her the bracelet, and after he had given her several words of warning. She was not supposed to talk to anyone she didn't know, nor was she supposed to mention him as anything more than a vocal teacher. Although she was allowed to see some of her old friends from college, it was best not to let them get deeply involved in her life. After one week, the black car would pick her up at the front of the apartment, and she would return to stay.

Every so often, Erik would get a reluctant look in his eye, as if he were suddenly going to change his mind and not allow her to go. Somehow, she managed to convince him that she would be fine….she would come back. Finally, he had bid her goodnight and wished her well on her trip, quickly heading back into his own room with a tense gait.

With an exhausted yawn, Christine finally stumbled out of bed and put on a warm cloth robe over her pajamas. In the light of the lamp, she could see the bracelet glimmering on the table. She smiled to herself as she opened the bedroom door, noticing that only a single lamp lit the empty sitting room. "Hello?" she quietly asked, gazing around. "Erik?"

She stepped out onto the soft throw rug, listening for sounds of movement. Surely he couldn't have left this early. Her gaze wandered downward, and she blinked in pleasant surprise.

Beside the edge of the couch lay an attractive black leather suitcase with several roomy pockets, clearly set out for her use. Above it, several hundred dollar bills lay upon the table with the twisted legs. Another smile graced her face at his thoughtfulness. Looking up, she saw that the door to his room remained open and that a light glowed from the inside. "Erik?" she called again.

Silence met her.

Slowly, she made her way to the back, feeling the rate of her heart increase nervously. The sound of her soft footsteps filled the air, one of the only noises in the entire house. Christine turned and peeked into his bedroom but saw no one there. Maybe there was a note somewhere. Maybe he had been forced to leave early. Maybe….

She started to turn around and go back into the living area but stopped as her eyes again fell on the mysterious gray door. If she concentrated, Christine swore she could smell the strange odor again. A monotonous hum sounded out from somewhere in the background, almost like that of a refrigerator. "Erik?" she asked one last time.

The eyes of the figurines in the room watched her as she walked forward. Her gaze shifted to the coffin momentarily. No! The bed. It wasn't a coffin. It just….looked like one. Shaking her head in self-disgust, she continued to walk toward the door. Her curiosity pulled her forward, although she knew that grave consequences could follow. But what could be in there? It was probably just a storage room. Still, she walked forward.

_Something was wrong. _

She didn't know what that meant. It was just a deep feeling….but a feeling that had been nagging at her for some time. Placing her hand on the door latch, she took a deep breath, praying that Erik would never find out. But what could the room possibly contain that would be so terrible? She would just take a quick look. In a single move, she pushed the latch in and flung the door open.

And then she stepped inside.

* * *

Raoul stared down at the closed suitcase for several seconds, trying to remember any last minute items to throw in. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was just about seven, meaning that the plane left in about six hours. Brian was the type that would want to get there at least three hours beforehand. With Kim's habit of being fashionably late, though, they'd be lucky not to miss the plane. 

He still wasn't thrilled about the trip but decided it might get his mind off things for at least a little while. Thoughts of Christine continued to drift into his head every so often, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that she was fine. There was just something...very strange about the entire situation. If everything was fine, then why couldn't she talk to him without hiding?

But what could he do now? He didn't even know where she was, and Christine had his number if she ever wanted to call. She'd had plenty of chances to contact the police, too. What else could be done?

After giving his two-year-old Dalmatian a goodbye pat on the head, Raoul wandered out of his bedroom to look through his brother's CD collection. Phillip was already in the room, working on a new stereo system. He always had some new gadget he was playing with when he wasn't at work or socializing.

"You heading off soon?" Phillip asked, glancing up from a pile of wires.

"Yeah. Probably in a couple of hours. Mind if I take a look around. I want something to listen to during the flight."

Phillip shrugged. "Sure. Just none of the newer stuff." He paused and looked back up. "You know, I'm thinking about asking Sorelli to marry me soon...once she's out of school. What do you think?"

Raoul glanced up with surprise, always picturing Phillip as more the permanent bachelor type. "Really? Sorelli?"

His brother grinned. "Yeah. I need to settle down some time...especially with the company. And she's really the only one I've been in a long relationship with. We'll see. But I'm thinking about it."

Raoul nodded. "Yeah. You two seem to work out together. Let me know how it goes."

"Sure. And let me know about the action on the slopes. Great things can happen up in the mountains...warm cabins...beautiful ladies..."

"Eh."

Phillip rolled his eyes. "Come on. Will you get over that girl and have some fun? She's obviously got big problems that you don't want to be involved with. Girls like that are...just not worth it."

He turned. "Would you not talk about Christine like that? Just… stay out of this! It's over now anyway." He randomly grabbed a handful of CDs. "I'd better be going."

"I thought you said you weren't leaving for a couple of hours."

"Maybe I'll grab some coffee first," he replied, making his way out of the room.

"Have fun up there!"

Raoul shook his head and headed back to grab his suitcase, very eager to get out of the house. Even though the home was enormous by most standards, it still seemed somewhat suffocating. All the walls were painted a pure white, and the mahogany furniture matched in every room. With the cleaning staff, nothing was ever out of place for very long.

The phone rang out from behind him, but he left it for someone else to answer. He just wanted to escape the city for awhile. Maybe the mountains of Colorado were as good a place as any.

"Raoul!" he heard his brother's voice from behind him and turned.

"What?

"Phone call!"

"Is it Brian? Tell him I'm on my way over." He started to turn back around and head out the door.

"No! It's a girl."

Raoul paused again, before abandoning the suitcase on the floor and picking up the extension line from the wall. "Hello?" he asked. A silence passed, and he wondered if they had hung up. The caller id wasn't able to identify the number. "Hello?"

"Raoul?" The voice was barely above a whisper, but he recognized it immediately.

"Christine!"

"Yeah," she shakily replied. "It's me."

"Are you okay? Where are you?"

Another pause. "I..." She choked. "Mrs. Valerius passed away."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Christine. Is there anything I can do? Where are you right now?"

He heard her swallow. "I...I can't say where I am now. But I...I'm going up to Vermont today." There was a crackle on the other line, followed by the sound of other voices. "No," he heard her say to someone else. "I'm sorry. I don't have any change." She took a shuddery breath.

Raoul gripped the phone. "Is everything else all right? Where in God's name are you?"

"I can't let you come here," she replied. "I just…oh….I'm scared. I'm so scared."

"Christine!" He calmed his voice. "Let me know where you are. Let me help you. You're scaring me."

"I can't let you come here," she repeated. "Not here. Oh! You're going to Aspen, aren't you? I'm sorry. I forgot about that...I…I'm ruining your trip, aren't I?"

"Forget about Aspen!" he quickly interrupted. "Tell me what's going on. Tell me where to find you."

"Oh God. I don't know if..." She hesitated. "Can you meet me in Vermont? Or maybe you shouldn't…..Maybe I should hang up."

"No, Christine. Don't hang up. All right? I'll meet you in Vermont. In Burlington, right? Where's a good place?"

"I...I don't know. I can't even think. What if…I don't know."

"Calm down," he said, soothingly. "Calm down. Your apartment? I know where that is."

"No," she quickly replied. "He knows where...No. That's not a good place. I..." She was quiet for a moment, and Raoul was afraid that he'd lost her. Christine's voice suddenly perked up. "I know! My old employment place. God! I'd forgotten about it. But you could stay the night there. Yes. Maybe that would work."

"All right! Great!" he eagerly replied. "What's the name of it?"

"The Apollo Hotel. It's...right off the campus. On the east side."

"I'll find it," he replied. "Are you sure you don't need help now? I wish you'd tell me where you are."

"No. I'll be okay. I...I'd better go now."

"All right. I'll be there as soon as I can. Take care, Christine."

"I will." Another shuddery breath. "Raoul?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."


	32. Chapter 32

Wow! The support on that last chapter was amazing. You guys completely made my week. Well, this is a long chapter, but I wanted to continue to move the plot along. It pretty much speaks for itself. The next few chapters will have a slow build in suspense, but I won't give anything away. Thanks again for all your enthusiastic reviews!

**Read and Review!**

With all the energy she had remaining, Christine pulled the heavy black leather suitcase up the steep concrete steps. A burning sensation still lingered in her throat, and her entire body seemed to ache with the exertion. She heaved a sigh of relief as she reached the landing and stepped out into the morning sunlight. Closing her eyes, she momentarily attempted to compose herself, allowing her heart to resume its normal rhythm. As a stray memory from that morning returned to her, a chill ran down her spine.

To her relief, the black car soon pulled around the corner and to the front of the decrepit complex. Eager to escape the eerie neighborhood, she ran toward the door and flung it open. For a second, she almost expected to see the two yellow eyes looking up at her from the inside. Seeing that the backseat was completely empty, she tossed her suitcase into the vehicle and climbed in. The door locked as soon as she slammed it shut. As the car sped forward onto the streets of the city, Christine lay back into the seat and stared blankly at the opaque divider that separated her from the driver. Subconsciously, she wrung her hands in her lap. _What had she done?_

She had just barely made it back from the payphone in time to grab her luggage and catch her ride. Then again, perhaps she should have been happy that she had made it back at all, with all the strange people that wandered the cracked and broken streets. She'd nearly had a heart attack when an elderly man with one arm had come up behind her and asked for change. Every stare seemed especially menacing. Only the sound of Raoul's voice on the other end of the line had kept her calm.

Still, though, nothing that she'd seen in the slums of the city could compare with what had happened in that room. Christine coughed twice, still feeling a rawness within her lungs. The inside of her nose and mouth continued to tingle, and a whirl of confusion swirled inside of her mind. _What had it been?_ _The powder. And then...then the sheet. _The memory came flooding back…..

With one last glance over her shoulder, Christine had opened the door to the forbidden room, the hinges softly creaking in the silence. A single standing lamp cast a soft glow over an array of cabinets and shelves. Slowly, she walked forward, at first seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Several boxes and crates were piled here and there, and what looked to be a small freezer hummed in one corner. The room stretched farther back than she had imagined, nearly as large as Erik's bedroom.

Curiosity continued to pull her forward, and she began to look down at the items on the counters. Various glass bottles and jars sparkled in the dim light, some containing unidentifiable liquids. Labels were taped to the tops of the jars, and she attempted to read the tiny letters. To her dismay, the writing was in a foreign script, and the dark markings made no sense to her. An odor hung in the air, or rather a medley of many different smells that she couldn't identify.

Suddenly, she had noticed several sheets of paper lying atop the counter. Most of the notes had Erik's nearly unintelligible handwriting written on them, but they appeared to be names and telephone numbers. Another was a printed document, and she had picked the piece of paper up into her hand for a closer look. It was a phone record. Her eyes widened as she saw that Carl Piane's name and personal information were printed in bold at the top. _That wasn't so unusual_, she had reasoned. _Maybe Erik had tried to call him about her audition?_

Looking down again, she saw several telephone numbers listed on the record. All calls had been made to a location in Boston. At the very bottom of the document, Erik had scribbled another name down. The writing had been done in sharp and fast strokes, almost having an angry look to it. _Darius Weiss._

She had sighed and laid the papers back down onto the counter. None of it made any sense, and Christine wondered if she should leave before her curiosity became the end of her. Her eyes drifted to the back of the room, a darker area that had metal cabinets nailed into the walls. Several more bottles sat on the back counters in a less organized fashion. One was open and contained a grayish powder. Next to it was a closed bottle, half-filled with a yellow liquid.

Slowly, she picked up the open one containing the powder, surprised to find how warm the glass was in the cold room. It was as though the contents were producing its own heat. Bringing it closer to her face, she looked inside at the small particles. They were like pieces of gray sand, clumped together as though they had been moistened.

Likely in fear of being caught, Christine had been subconsciously holding her breath in anxiety for some time. Feeling slightly dizzy, she had suddenly taken a deep breath of air, allowing a strong whiff of the strange substance to enter her nostrils. At first, it was just a putrid smell that made her quickly draw back and slam the bottle back down onto the counter.

As the seconds passed, though, the sour odor became a tingling sensation that traveled up her nostrils and back into her nose and throat. The tingling soon became a burning. Her mouth was on fire. Christine began to gag, falling to her knees upon the frigid floor as each choke shook her body. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, and each cough seemed to grow more painful. She clutched her arms up to her chest, trying to choke the agonizing sensation out of her body. Tears ran down her cheeks, and the dark room began to spin in and out of focus. Desperately, she fought for every breath.

Hunched over on the floor, Christine at first wondered if she was going to die. With blessed relief, though, she realized that the fiery sensation was slowly beginning to fade away. Although her chest continued to ache from her continuous coughing, the pain in her throat and nose had become duller. Breathing heavily and with perspiration streaming down her face, Christine rested her cheek on the cool linoleum. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fade out of consciousness for a moment. Slowly, her breathing began to return to normal, and her heart-rate slowed down.

Several minutes later, she sat up and took a deep breath of cool, clean air. The room stopped spinning, and clarity began to return to her. Christine rubbed a hand over her face in an attempt to make the remaining pain go away. As she stood up, she grabbed onto one of the metal file cabinets to steady her shaking legs.

Her eyes suddenly focused upon the back wall of the room, an area mostly draped in shadows. She blinked twice, wondering if the chemical was having an effect on her vision or causing her to imagine things. Something lay atop the back counter. Something long and bulky.

Something hidden under a crisp, white sheet.

Still somewhat dizzy from the inhalation of the chemical, Christine took an unsteady step backwards. Her eyes didn't leave the motionless object, and her mouth slowly fell agape. As her heartbeat began to race again, she realized that she didn't want to know anymore. _She didn't want to know any of this!_

Tearing her eyes away from the sheet, she flew out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with an echoing crash. The eyes of the predatorial figurines in Erik's bedroom were immediately all around her….watching her….knowing what she had just done.

She had stumbled out of Erik's chambers and back into the empty sitting area. Pairs of eyes continued to follow her from the shelves. Christine turned in an aimless circle, not knowing where to go or what to do. She was alone. No one was there to help her. Even Erik was gone. And now…she was to go to Vermont by herself, to bury her dead guardian. Panic gripped her tired body.

Raoul Chagny suddenly flashed into her mind, his caring face a comfort to her in all the confusion. Her childhood friend had been there for her all along, trying to help her even when she had pushed him away. Maybe he hadn't left yet. Maybe he would help her understand all of this. But wouldn't it be dangerous to call him? She didn't know, but she couldn't take being alone anymore. The frightening images in the room continued to run through her mind, a soreness lingering inside of her throat.

Gathering every ounce of her resolve and sanity, Christine had grabbed the napkin with Raoul's phone number and some spare change that had been laying beside the hundred dollar bills. Opening the unlocked door, she had raced up the concrete steps. She ignored the glances of leering men and the distant police sirens as she raced through the decrepit neighborhood. Stepping over the cracks and crevices in the streets, she had run to a payphone that lay on the outside of the complex.

The call had been made. In several hours, she would meet with Raoul at The Apollo Hotel. She had chosen the building because of the comforting feel it had to it, and because they could hide in one of the rooms without being seen. If someone she knew was working the desk, maybe they could even go in without registering their names.

As the black car continued forward and out of the city, Christine began to gather her thoughts.

What had been in that room? Had Erik really….? But she had never looked beneath the sheet. What if it was her overactive imagination? The awful chemical had been real, though! It had nearly killed her! But she'd had no right to be there in the first place. Erik had been wonderful to her. He had never hurt her. He loved her….and she…..she…

She prayed that Erik wouldn't find out about this. But it wasn't betrayal, was it? Didn't she have every right to see Raoul? Everything had suddenly become too confusing to handle on her own. She needed to talk to someone else….needed someone else to help her make sense out of all this. As the winter sun rose higher in the sky, it seemed to clear a layer of fog from her mind. The reality of the last few weeks became blurry and uncertain.

For the rest of the ride to Vermont, she just stared out the windows, watching the smaller towns flash by. She attempted not to think on anything that had happened just yet, struggling to focus her concentration on what immediately needed to be done. The funeral and task of cleaning out the apartment loomed ahead of her, adding to the heavy weight that already lay upon her shoulders.

Some hours later, the black car pulled onto the familiar roads of her home town. Christine sat straight up and gazed out the window at the large brick houses and white fences that made up the wealthier side. Restaurants and stores she had often visited passed by, including the little café that she and Meg had often gone to between classes. The buildings of the university stood tall over the brown grass and barren trees. College students walked down the streets with their coats and backpacks on. The normalcy of the world almost seemed strange.

When the black car finally turned onto the street of Mrs. Valerius' neighborhood, she looked at the older homes and apartments with slight nostalgia. Slowly, the vehicle came to a halt in from of her complex. She just sat there for several seconds, her fingers gripping the handle of the door. With a swallow, Christine finally opened it. "Thank you," she softly said, climbing out onto the pavement. Not to her surprise, there was no response from the front. Taking the black suitcase by the handle, she pulled it out of the car and shut the door behind her, watching as the vehicle drove away and disappeared into the distance.

As she began to walk up the steps to her apartment, a strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She was truly alone, wasn't she? After fishing for the key under the welcome mat, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. A musty smell greeted her, and her eyes took some time to adjust to the dimness of the room. Christine just gazed blankly for several moments at her former home, setting her suitcase on the ground. Looking up, she saw that the microwave clock said it was almost noon.

The events of that morning returned to her, and she quickly remembered her next destination. It was time to go to The Apollo Hotel.

Perhaps with the help of her beloved childhood friend, she would find some answers.

Because at the present moment, Christine felt utterly lost.

* * *

As she pulled up into the parking lot of her old employment place, a feeling of fondness traveled through her. The building looked extremely welcoming, the red bricks sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. She immediately saw Raoul waiting for her near the entry way, his hands in the pockets of his coat as he stared out the glass doors. 

Parking the green Honda, Christine took a long and deep breath. She sat there for several seconds, wondering if she was doing the right thing. But maybe no harm would come from it. She just wanted someone to talk to…especially after the terror of that morning. A chill traveled down her spine. Erik would never have to know.

Gathering her resolve, she opened the car and stepped out. Her eyes wandered around nervously, searching for shifting shadows or dark shapes. All was quiet and still, save for the light traffic on the road beside her. She began walking forward at a quick pace, hoping to draw no attention to herself. Upon seeing her, Raoul immediately stepped out.

"Hey!" he said with a wave. "I was beginning to wonder if you weren't coming."

"Hi!" she quickly replied. "Let's go inside." Taking his wrist and ignoring the look of confusion on his face, she guided him into the lobby. The familiar smell of coffee and polished wood greeted her, relaxing her nerves somewhat. Relief ran through her as she saw that Pamela was working the desk.

"Christine!" her old co-worker exclaimed, hopping up from the desk chair. "My God! It's been forever. Where the heck have you been?"

She shifted, suddenly feeling very awkward. "I….I've just been busy. With school and everything. Could you get us a room? On the third floor? I'll pay later. But…could you…could you please keep our names out of the computer?"

Pamela squinted her eyes in confusion, but her frown became a good-natured smirk as she looked toward Raoul. "Oh. I see what you've been busy with, Christine. Are you on your honeymoon or something?"

Christine could feel her face grew warm as she realized the implications of her request. She didn't have time for this now, though. "No. It's not…..Will you do it? Please, Pamela. I promise no one will find out."

Raoul looked between them in bewilderment, his own face turning a little red. "I can pay now," he said, taking a credit card from his wallet. "But are you sure you want to…."

"No. No credit card. I don't want our names down here. I'll pay later. I promise."

Pamela shrugged. "Yeah. Go ahead. It's not busy today, and the boss isn't here. I'll just stick you in room three sixty-six. Sound good?"

"Yes!" Christine exclaimed. "Thank you so much for this, Pam."

"No problem," she replied, handing over the key card. Pamela smirked again. "Have fun, guys."

Christine ignored the comment. "Let's get up there," she said, grabbing Raoul by the hand again. Her eyes darted everywhere. As long as they were in open space, she didn't feel safe.

"What's going on?" her friend asked, as they headed toward the stairwell. "Are you sure you don't just want to take the elevator?"

"I don't want to be trapped in a small space," she stated, leading him up the long flight of steps. "The stairs are better." He shrugged, and together they climbed upwards, their footsteps echoing on the linoleum and through the stairwells. At one point, someone came around the corner, causing Christine to quickly jump back. A younger man in a ski jacket gave her a confused look as he passed. Raoul lightly squeezed her shoulder, and they continued upward.

Both were out of breath as they finally reached floor three. Silently, Christine walked forward to their room and took out the key card, sliding it through the slot twice before the door finally unlocked. Raoul followed, watching in complete bewilderment as she walked in and flung open the closet door to expose an empty void of space. She then proceeded to open the bathroom door, revealing a fully furnished sink and bathtub. Just as she started to pull back the shower curtain, Raoul gently reached over and grabbed her arm. "Chris. Calm down. There's no one else here. Just us. Would you please tell me what is going on?"

She whirled around to face him, her face pale and her eyes wide. "I shouldn't even be here," she stated, staring at the floor with something akin to horror. "Do you know what would happen if he found out? Oh God. What if he's listening right now?"

"There's no one here," Raoul gently repeated, leading her toward the set of velvet armchairs next to the single bed. "Now tell me what's going on. Let me help you out of this."

She placed a hand to her forehead and brushed the tangled blonde hair away from her face. A distant look entered her eyes, and her gaze drifted toward the window. "I feel like I've been away forever," she murmured. "It feels like I just woke up from a long sleep. Nothing even makes sense."

"Are...is someone hurting you?"

Christine slowly shook her head. "No. He never…..No."

Raoul took a seat in one of the chairs, allowing her to collect her thoughts. After glancing out the window for several more seconds, she sat down across from him on the floral printed bedspread. "Please tell me, Christine. We'll figure something out. No matter how bad it is..."

She smiled sadly and looked up at him. "But it hasn't all been that bad. I even thought that I..." She shook her head to clear it. "I don't know what I think. I can't even tell what thoughts are my own anymore."

"Just tell me what you can, then. Maybe we'll have more time to talk than we usually do."

Christine paused. A strong need came over her to let everything out, to tell him everything. So much was weighing down upon her that she couldn't even think. His blue eyes were so calm and caring...so reassuring. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell him. They were alone, after all. No one would ever know. She took a deep and shaky breath.

"I was on my way home one night..." she slowly began. "It was after Mrs. Valerius had first gone to the hospital. There was this country road, and a man was jogging down the street..."

Little by little and piece by piece, she revealed everything that had happened... the miraculous voice, the night of her first performance, the strange visit to the cemetery. All came together to form a long story that she had not even pieced together until then. Her friend merely nodded in disbelief, and she realized how completely unbelievable some parts seemed.

Raoul suddenly stopped her when she came to the night of the theater evacuation… the night that Erik had first taken her away. "So...wait a second. He...drugged you? And kept you there when you tried to leave?" Her friend's eyes widened and an expression of disgust twisted his mouth. "That son of a...He should be arrested for kidnapping!"

"Don't," she softly interrupted. "It doesn't make anything better..."

"I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "Go on."

Her face paled slightly when she arrived at the day of the demasking and the rage that had followed. "He was so angry," she said, staring out into space. "I've never seen...anything like it in my life. I…I should never have done that."

Raoul gently took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, complete disbelief on his face. "It really...It really looked like a skull?"

"That's the only way I could ever describe it."

"My God. And then he attacked you?"

She paused. "He was furious. He yelled at me...chased me and cornered me. But he didn't...he didn't really hurt me, Raoul. He never has." Christine looked to the ground. A single tear streamed down her cheek. "And then after that day...things slowly became fine. He helped me with my singing career. He took me places and spent time with me. Erik would...do anything for me."

"But he also kept you prisoner."

She looked up sharply. "But I'm here today. I saw you the night of my performance at the hotel. I'm not a prisoner."

"But every time I see you, you're scared to death that's he's going to find out. Even now." Her friend gazed intensely at her. "If you wanted to leave him, he wouldn't let you. Right?" She averted her eyes and said nothing. "Then it's not right, Christine."

"I don't know," she quickly replied, avoiding the topic. "But that's not the end. I...I wasn't even planning on calling you. It would have been too dangerous, and you had your trip. And….everything was fine. But I didn't know what else to do."

"I'm glad you did call me. If I would have known half of this..." He tapered off. "So what else happened?"

Christine withdrew her hands and folded her arms into her chest. She took another deep breath. "I...I was looking for him in his room this morning. We hadn't said goodbye…and I wanted to. He wasn't there, but this door was open." She paused. "I should have never gone in."

"A door?"

"Yes. A hidden door." He squinted his eyes in confusion. "Don't ask, Raoul. I don't even understand half of the things that go on. I…I try not to think about all of it."

"So what did you find?"

With her gaze focused upon the ground, she revealed her discoveries. "But…but maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe it was just a cleaning chemical. And I never actually looked under the sheet. Maybe I'm imagining everything. _Right?_"

Raoul shook his head, suddenly looking very tired. "Christine….I have no idea what you saw in there, but we've got to get you out of here. God knows what else he's doing. I can't believe some of this. Let me…Let me call the police or something."

"No!" she gasped, grasping onto his arm. "Don't call the police. Don't do anything. Promise me you won't do anything."

"Why? Look at all this guy has done to you!"

"Stop it! You can't understand everything. I don't...I don't want anything to happen to anyone."

"Me or him?"

"Either of you," Christine replied, looking him directly in the eye. "

Raoul slowly placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Then let me get you out of here...somewhere far away. Maybe he'll forget about you after a while. Let me help you out, Christine."

Her blue eyes widened. "I couldn't do that," she murmured. "I could never. You…you don't know what it would do to him."

"You're his prisoner, though. Don't you see that? I'm afraid he's going to hurt you. Or worse!"

She shook her head and clenched her fists. "I…I couldn't." _Freedom from all of this? Normalcy._ Her mind spun. "It would hurt him so much."

"But what about you, Christine?" Raoul gently asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What about what you want? Do you want to stay? Do…do you love him?"

Her gaze went toward the window again. Slowly, she stood up and walked over to the vent underneath it. "It's cold in here. Don't you think so? Let me try and get the heat on." Her fingers fumbled aimlessly over the knobs and buttons.

"Christine?"

She bit her lip. "Please don't ask that question."

With a sigh of resignation, Raoul rose up from the armchair and walked to where she stood. Still staring out the window, Christine leaned back against him for a moment, her head tilted against his broad shoulder. "How long do you have here?" he asked, gazing out the window with her. A light breeze had picked up, swaying the bare branches of the maple trees out front.

"A week," she softly replied. "For the funeral. And to get things cleared up. I…I can't believe she's really gone."

"I'll stay here with you. Maybe we can figure something out by then. Maybe after you have some time to think without…." A look of anger passed over his handsome features, but he said nothing more.

She turned to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. "It might be dangerous if you stay. If something were to happen…."

"I'm staying here, Christine," he firmly replied. "It's just one man, right? And someone has to help you out while you're here. I mean….unless _you_ don't want me to."

"No. I do want you to. It's just…." She sighed softly. "I don't know."

His warm hand wrapped around her own. "We've got a week. We'll figure something out."

Christine didn't protest. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax and to forget all of the events that lay menacingly in front of her. She ignored the conflicting feelings, watching as the afternoon sun began to make its steady descent in the blue sky.

As she wrung her hands together, the onyx ring began to loosen and slide off her finger….toward the cracks that made up the open vent. With a gasp, Christine quickly grabbed it with her other hand, tightly fitting the piece of jewelry back onto her finger. A deep sigh of relief came from the back of her throat. Raoul looked down at the glinting black stone, finding it almost threatening against her small, pale hand.

"Christine," Raoul said softly, looking at her weary and ashen face. "There's no one else here. Just you and me."

She tiredly nodded, attempting to believe his words of comfort. But even as Raoul wrapped a strong arm around her waist, her heart still jumped at every drifting shadow.

With a growing feeling of dread, she knew that a choice would soon have to be made.


	33. Chapter 33

This chapter is a little more of a filler, but it also gives the various viewpoints of everyone as the situation unfolds. I think it kind of speaks for itself, so I'll let you get to reading. Thank you for your support! This week has been especially rough with school, so I was very happy to see the reviews.

**Read and Review!**

Exhausted from their conversation, Christine had tiredly massaged her forehead and said that she needed a moment to lie down. Leaving the window, she had collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown on her face and a furrow in her brow. Unsure of what to do next, Raoul had left the room to get them something to drink from the vending machines down the hall. He was beginning to feel weary himself.

With two cold cans of soda in hand, Raoul slid the key card through the slot and quietly opened the door to the room. "They didn't have Dr. Pepper," he began, "so I got…."

He stopped speaking as he saw that Christine had fallen asleep atop the comforter of the king-sized bed. She was on her right side, her cheek resting against the pillow and her blonde hair slightly covering her pallid face. Her eyelids fluttered as he walked in, but she didn't stir.

Raoul softly sighed and set the two cans on the dresser. She looked completely drained of energy, and he briefly wondered what else she had been through in that past month. At least he now understood why Christine had been acting so strangely. She'd been terrified the entire time. God knew what else had happened to her. A guy who would drug a girl and hold her against her will had to be capable of a lot worse. Still, he could only speculate, and he wouldn't prod her for any more information.

Not wanting to do anything that would awaken her, Raoul took a seat next to the window and stared into the room. It was already three in the afternoon. After the intense conversation, both had quietly stood there for some time, each lost in their own thoughts and wondering what to do next. He'd been trying to figure out how to make Christine see reason in all of this.

Raoul rubbed his chin and thought over the situation. Although he couldn't quite understand Christine's protests over trying to escape, it wasn't a huge surprise after all she had been through. Wasn't there a name for this kind of thing where you identified with your captor? Stockholm Syndrome? Or maybe she was still just frightened. Whatever it was, Christine obviously needed help getting through this.

They had a week. Maybe when she saw that she was no longer in danger, Christine's head would begin to clear. She would see this guy for what he really was….a dangerous criminal. Maybe she would even be willing to call the police. Whatever happened, Raoul was intent on getting her where this guy couldn't lay a hand upon her.

The biggest problem was that she often spoke of him as if he were superhuman, able to be everywhere at once….to always see and hear what was going on between them. Raoul was disturbed by the matter, but surely this Erik was no more than an ordinary man. He had just obtained so much power over Christine's mind that she saw him as otherwise.

Raoul looked over as Christine stirred and sat up, rubbing her blue eyes of sleep and looking around the room with disorientation. After she saw him sitting by the window, a look of realization crossed her face. He couldn't tell whether she was relieved or upset. "Oh. I didn't mean to sleep!" she exclaimed, raising herself up from the bed. "What time is it?"

Raoul smiled and stood. "You looked worn out. I thought I'd let you relax for awhile. It's a little past three right now."

"Three?" she groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "I have so much to get done. The apartment. And I need to call Mrs. Valerius' relatives. I don't even know when the funeral is yet."

"We'll get it all done," he assured her, attempting to calm her shattered nerves. "How does some food sound first? I didn't get any lunch. You?"

She hesitated and looked to the ground. "Raoul…I really don't know if it's… safe for us to be together in public. I just don't know."

"Why not? We're just friends spending time together. There's no one else here. No one will care."

She gave him a pleading look. "I know this is hard to understand. But Erik is….He's very afraid that I'll leave him. He would do anything to get me back. And I just…I just don't want either of you to be hurt."

Raoul rubbed a hand over his temples tiredly, wishing she would realize how bad this all sounded from the outside. Didn't she see that she was a prisoner? "Christine. We're just friends going out for a meal. I want to help you out this week. You've been trapped for the last month….and I just wish you'd…take some time to think all of this through. I'm worried about you."

Christine sighed. Gazing into a mirror than hung on the wall, she began to run a hand through her matted hair, attempting to get the tangles out. "What if sees us?" she asked, after several seconds had passed. "Then what?"

"He won't," Raoul stated. "We would have noticed if anyone were following us. Besides….I wouldn't mind seeing him. I have a few things I'd like to say to him."

Christine whirled around and practically grabbed the front of his shirt. "Don't ever go looking for him! You'd be dead before you even saw him. Do you understand?"

The look on her face confirmed how serious she was, and Raoul suddenly wondered exactly what they were dealing with. "All right," he said, removing her hand from his shirt and clasping it. Her fingers were almost icy. "I won't do anything without asking you first. But will you grab some dinner with me? Your choice of places. I promise that nothing is going to happen."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. Let's go eat. There are some good places around campus. You can get your order fast. Then…we can start sorting through some of the stuff at the apartment."

He grinned, grateful he had pushed some of her fears away. "Great! I promise everything will be fine, Christine. Just take some time and think everything through. All right?"

"All right," she replied with obvious reluctance. "Maybe some food would help."

After a quick glance around the room, she followed Raoul out the door and back into the hallway, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. She checked around every corner. Whenever a door shut or open, she whirled around to look behind her. At her insistence, they took the stairwell instead of the elevator again. Christine almost froze as they reached the lobby, her eyes darting right and left and her hand gripping the metal railing.

"We shouldn't be here like this," she stated softly. "We just shouldn't."

Raoul attempted to lead her forward. "We're fine, Christine. Nothing is going to happen. No one even knows we're here." He handed the key card back up to the front desk, not knowing whether he was going to be back that night or not. Frankly, he wasn't keen on leaving Christine by herself that day.

"Here. We'll take my car….pick yours up on the way back. You look like you could use a break from driving."

She nodded as they walked back into the parking lot. A small smile crossed her face. "Yeah. I'd probably run off the road or something."

He laughed; glad to see that she was at least making an attempt at a joke. Taking out his keys, he unlocked the door of the BMW and started to climb into the driver's seat. Christine reached for the back handle. "You can…sit in the front," he said, slightly confused. "Unless you don't want to. The back's a little cramped, though."

"Oh!" she gasped, shaking her head in embarrasment. "Sorry. Habit, I guess." Biting her lip, she climbed into the front and sat down in the leather seat. With her hands neatly folded in her lap, she continued to gaze around and gnaw nervously at her lip.

He laughed and turned on the car, sending the heater blasting into the air. The radio also switched on, playing a light pop mix. "You sit in the backseat a lot?"

"Erik and I sit in the back," Christine stated with strange solemnity. "He has a driver."

"Oh."

With the radio softly playing a nineties ballad, he silently drove forward. Christine kept her gaze out the window, a distant look in her eyes as she gave him directions. Although the restaurant was only a few miles away, a part of him wanted to just keep driving….get her as far away as possible from whatever had done this to her. Even after they were inside the confines of the restaurant, her gaze still wandered around the room, searching the corners and crowds. He gently took her arm and led her to a booth.

"This looks good," he stated, merely attempting to make simple conversation.

She looked up and gave a half-hearted smile. "Yeah. Meg and I came here a lot." Christine paused. "I would like to see her while I'm here. She probably hates me by now, though. I haven't seen her since….that night."

"I'm sure she doesn't," he replied, picking up the menu. "It wasn't like you didn't have a valid excuse for leaving."

"Don't…don't say anything to anyone," she replied in almost a whisper. "Promise that everything will stay between you and me. Please."

"All right. I won't." He somewhat wished that they could get away from the topic, as he was beginning to feel a little paranoid as well. Raoul repeatedly told himself they were just dealing with an ordinary man, yet a feeling of anxiety was slowly building inside of him. Visions of something dark and mysterious were running through his mind.

Christine looked down at her menu. "I don't even know what to get," she murmured.

Raoul smiled and pushed his concerns away. "Whatever you feel like, Christine."

Biting her lip, she continued to scan the menu, a tired look returning to her blue eyes. "What are you getting?"

"I was thinking of trying the mushroom and Swiss burger. Don't know how it will be…but…" He shrugged good-naturedly.

Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she finally closed the menu. "I'll get the turkey club, I guess."

"Sounds good! Maybe we can grab some dessert, too."

He watched as she absentmindedly nodded and looked at the table, a distant expression on her face. Her eyes darted around every so often, in search of something that was never there. The carefree girl of their youth was gone, replaced by a timid and frightened ghost of herself. She was pale and thin….and her thoughts seemed to drift away from her.

Surely Christine wanted out of the situation. Even if she hesitated out of fear or duty, surely she wanted to be free again. Her life had been torn from her. Of course she would be confused. She was completely alone and needed someone's help.

Raoul Chagny clenched his jaw in determination.

He would free Christine Daae.

* * *

Everything had suddenly become quiet. 

Almost too quiet.

For the last several days, Nadir had seen absolutely no sign of Erik or Ms. Daae. He had parked his car in the same spot for several hours each morning and evening, only to see nothing out of the ordinary. He had even driven a bit farther into the older side of the city, feeling that he must be getting closer to Erik's residence. No more strange phone calls from Mr. Weiss or any other people of interest had come through. Things had come to a standstill, and the Iranian wasn't sure what was to come next.

He sat at the kitchen table, picking at a TV dinner with a plastic fork and absentmindedly scanning over the _New York Times_. The crime rate had gone up last year. Part of the country was in a drought, while the other half was being flooded. He frowned as he saw that hostilities were still building between the US and his home country. Nothing ever seemed to change.

As a light patter of rain began to fall on his roof, Nadir rose up and threw the remaining food away. He didn't know how people ate those things. The fries had tasted like cardboard. With a yawn, he turned to make a pot of coffee, needing a boost of energy for the rest of the evening. Exhaustion and age were beginning to bear down on him these days. He knew that the time would come when he would have to give up the chase. There would be a time when he would have to accept things as they were.

Nadir filled the pot with water, accidentally leaving the sink running at a steady drip. As he reached over to turn it off, a chill suddenly ran up and down his spine. He froze and attempted to gather his senses, feeling a silent presence lingering somewhere near by. Without a doubt, he knew that he was not alone.

Heart pounding, Nadir scanned the room as the temperature dropped several degrees. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. "You're a silly, old fool," he shakily whispered to himself. "Imagining things like a child. Nothing but a fool."

Shaking his head in self-disgust, he reached over to turn on the coffee pot. Just as his gaze left the empty kitchen, Nadir heard a soft whoosh of air behind him. Within a split second, a cold hand had reached around and gripped the front of his neck, nearly choking off all air. Nadir coughed and attempted to twist out of the icy grasp, but the hand held fast. The familiar voice spoke into his ear….the frigid words causing a new round of shivers to run through him.

"Did I not warn you to leave the city, Nadir?" it whispered. "Have I not repeatedly told you that our next meeting would be our last?"

Nadir continued to gasp. "Erik….please…." he choked out.

"Ah! But not only have you stayed on my territory, old friend. You have told the authorities everything! I have been infiltrated with informants, and I can only assume that I have you to thank for it. Did you really think I would allow you to live after spreading such falsities?" The grip tightened, and Nadir almost blacked out.

"No," he protested, attempting to tilt his head up and get a breath of air. Nadir suddenly realized that he wasn't ready to die, no matter how bold his words had been those past weeks. "I didn't. I promise. They asked, but I told them nothing about you."

"Why should I believe you?" he hissed. "How else could they have known, Nadir? You have wanted me gone ever since you arrived!"

"Buquet!" he choked out. "He had information. I said nothing. Please, Erik! Spare me. It is the truth."

A silence followed, and Nadir waited for several agonizing seconds, waiting for the strangling grip to either release him or fatally tighten.

"Why do they not leave me in peace?" raged Erik, seeming to direct his anger less at the Iranian and more at mankind. "I have done nothing of that nature in years! Nothing! And still they continue to torment me! Well I have stopped them this time! It is over!" The grip loosened slightly, and Nadir took a deep breath.

"Stopped what," he asked, attempting to sound as sympathetic as possible. "What has happened?"

"They are everywhere, Nadir. Relentless. They have even used _her_ to get to me. But they have failed." The grip finally released, and Nadir let out a long sigh of relief. He slowly whirled around to see Erik pacing back and forth across his kitchen tiles. A frantic look shown from the yellow eyes.

"Come…my friend," Nadir said, as if trying to console a small child. He was still in danger with Erik in such a mood. The best option was to keep calm. "Let us talk. Where is….Where is Christine?"

Erik stopped pacing and looked up. "She will return soon. She will come back. It was very necessary that she left, but she will return, Nadir."

The Iranian detected a clear note of panic in the frantic words. _Something was wrong. _"I'm sure that she will, Erik. But where is she? And what is going on?"

"_Of course she will return_! She will not leave me! My Christine would never leave me." Erik resumed pacing, his bony hands clenched into tight fists.

Nadir sighed, realizing he was getting nowhere and wanting to keep things as calm as possible. If Erik became angry again, that would be it. "I am sure that everything will be fine."

"Yes." Erik nodded. "After her guardian is buried, she will return. And we will live in peace where no one will harm us. Because she is all that I need, Nadir! Nothing else! Yes. She will return." A short pause followed, and the yellow eyes flared. "No matter what the _boy_ tells her."

"The boy….?" questioned Nadir in confusion. "You mean her friend?" As things began to make some sense, a deadly energy rose in the air.

"_He_ will not sway her! She loves me! Not that pathetic boy! He could never understand her! Christine will return to _me_!" Erik suddenly flinched forward, causing Nadir to take a step back.

"Erik," he cautiously began. "I am sure that everything will work out. Simply calm down." Nadir really didn't believe what he was saying, but he was beginning to fear for the safety of several people, himself included. "Let us sit down and have a short discussion. As we used to do."

"No!" growled Erik, blending into the shadows as he walked in the direction of the exit. "I must leave. Preparations must be made for her return. After Christine is safely back home, we will invite you over. You would like that, wouldn't you? Yes. After she returns to me."

"Erik…Please do nothing rash. Allow the girl some time to herself."

The eyes glared dangerously. "I will do nothing! Nothing will happen, because she _will_ return. I suggest you do not meddle."

"Erik…"

"Have a good evening." The door quickly opened, and his masked friend was gone within an instant.

Scratching his head, Nadir sat down at the table in a partial state of shock. He rubbed his neck, still feeling an aching sensation where Erik had grabbed him. On the one hand, he was grateful that Erik had been distraught enough not to even remember his original deadly intentions. It had been some time since Nadir had seen him so without composure. At the same time, he was worried about what was to come.

What exactly were Ms. Daae's plans? Was this a simple misunderstanding….a part of Erik's paranoia? Perhaps she would return.

Or maybe she had finally taken a chance at escape…freed herself from this obvious madness. With sadness, Nadir realized the latter was more likely, and he really couldn't blame her. From what it sounded like, she had run to the arms of her friend…away from something she couldn't possibly understand. And Erik had somehow discovered this fact.

And if this were all true, one life was in danger at the very least.

He sighed.

_How many hours away was Vermont?_

* * *

Christine had slept perhaps one hour into the night before awakening to find herself in her old bedroom. It took her several moments to remember where she was and all that had occurred that afternoon. Mrs. Valerius' apartment was dark and quiet, slightly below a comfortable temperature. Her eyes wandered around the room, looking at all the belongings that had still yet to be packed or thrown away. It was going to be difficult to part with some things…and yet it was also time to move on. 

Realizing that sleep was not going to return, she got up and slipped on an old cotton robe over her pajamas. Padding softly down the hallway and into the living room, she looked inside to see Raoul fast asleep on the sofa. He was lying on his stomach, his head resting against a throw pillow and one arm draped over the side of the couch. She had offered him the other bedroom…even told him that he might be more comfortable in a hotel. Her friend had insisted on staying there, though. She smiled sadly. He was trying to protect her from something he knew nothing about.

After a quiet and somewhat awkward meal, they had retrieved her car from the hotel and returned to Mrs. Valerius' apartment. Immediately, they began to sort through the many items of the home, throwing some things away and boxing up others. Some belongings would be given to Mrs. Valerius' relations, and others could be donated. Christine wasn't quite sure what to do with most of her possessions. She hadn't been sure about anything that day.

As they looked through some of the older objects and photographs from her years with her father, she'd had to choke back tears. His old guitar had even been laying against a wall in one of the closets, hidden to keep away painful memories. Mrs. Valerius still had most of his recordings, none of which had ever sold. Raoul had continuously offered his support during the more difficult moments, lightening the mood or wrapping an arm around her shoulders. There was no doubt that her friend had been a great comfort. They'd gotten twice as much work done together than she would have if she'd been there alone. Stacks of boxes sat neatly in every corner of the apartment.

To her dismay, though, Raoul hadn't been able to understand everything. Looking back, she didn't blame him. From anyone else's perspective, she had been nothing more than an innocent victim, kept prisoner by a madman. They wouldn't understand the need for music….or the deep connection…..or the blissful tranquility she had often felt in the little apartment. How could they possibly understand? Even she couldn't completely comprehend it all.

Biting her lip and glancing at Raoul, Christine walked to the door of the apartment and opened it. She stepped out into the frigid night air, feeling as though she needed room to breathe. Months ago, she would have been wary of going outside in the middle of the night. After all she had seen and been through, though, the darkness no longer seemed as threatening.

Out of pure habit, she glanced around for a familiar pair of yellow eyes but saw nothing. Christine prayed that Raoul was right, that Erik was not watching their every move. It wasn't just his anger that she feared. She knew that he would see it as betrayal, and she didn't want to hurt him. After all, she wasn't trying to leave….was she?

With a sigh, Christine walked down the wooden steps, hearing them creak beneath her bare feet. A quarter moon and several stars shown from the night sky, and a chilly breeze rustled the bare trees. The streets and sidewalks were still and silent. No lights were on in any of the other buildings.

What if she did escape? Christine knew that Raoul would stay with her, and she would want him to be there. Would they spend their lives hiding…always wondering if Erik was following? A life of fear.

Or suppose that Erik didn't follow? Suppose she was really free. Then what? Would she resume a normal life? Start school again? Form a real and stable relationship with Raoul…one that could be gossiped about with friends? One that involved Friday night dates, anniversaries, and dinner parties?

Although the first scenario was frightening, the second one sounded strangely hollow. Could she really return to normalcy after all she had experienced? Could she completely forget about Erik? Forget all the shared moments between them?

No. She already knew the answer to that question. Even if he didn't physically follow them, his presence would always linger with her. She could never forget. She didn't want to forget.

_Why?_

Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she stared at the empty streets. The wind tossed a plastic bag through the air, before gently setting it back upon the ground. She knew the answer to that question as well. Even Raoul had known….just by looking at her that day. He thought it to be some sort of brainwashing, but her friend still saw it in her eyes. Only now, in quiet solitude and without the influence of anyone or anything, could Christine admit it to herself.

She loved him. In some very strange way, she had connected to Erik. Through music, or loneliness, or something else altogether, she had come to love him. Life without him sounded empty. Her old life sounded lonely.

But was this strange revelation enough? He had frightened her on several occasions, to the point where she truly believed that he would kill her. Erik was unpredictable and enigmatic, and she didn't understand what he was doing half the time. Even now, thoughts of that terrible hidden room gave her chills. Only his eyes ever gave her any clue to what he was thinking.

And the face. What would happen if she saw it a second time? She didn't want to speculate on it. Only a second trial would ever give her the answer.

All she knew for certain was that he loved her. The desperation and longing in his eyes was painfully overwhelming, even terrifing at first. Over time, though, she had grown accustomed to it. She had come to enjoy his company…to look forward to their time together. She had come to love him in return. And she finally admitted it to herself. A warm, lighthearted sensation engulfed her, but it faded as reality came back.

_Was it really enough?_ So many other things were completely wrong. What would ever become of her if she returned?

"Christine?" She turned around to see Raoul standing at the top of the steps, tiredly squinting at her with concern. "Are you okay out here? It's freezing."

She smiled. He looked endearing with his hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled from sleep. "I'm fine. Just thinking things over."

With a yawn, he came down to stand next to her. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah. Let's go back inside."

He shivered in the night air. "Sounds good to me." They stood out there silently for several more moments. To her surprise, Raoul suddenly leaned down and lightly kissed her cheek. The tingle of his lips remained on her skin as he pulled back. Christine blinked. "Sorry," he said, sheepishly. "You just looked…really nice out here."

"I…" She tapered off. "Thank you."

Guilt rushed through her. If only Raoul had know what she was thinking right before he stepped out. Quickly pulling herself away from his comforting warmth, she turned and began to make her way back up the stairs. Her friend followed behind, obviously not knowing what to make of the situation.

As they stepped back into the apartment, Christine softly bid him goodnight and re-entered her bedroom. Thoughts raced through her mind, some of which she quickly pushed away in fright or shame. Her sleep was plagued by incomprehensible dreams. By morning, the same questions still lingered in her confused mind.

_Was love really enough?_


	34. Chapter 34

This chapter was a bit draining, but I hope it comes out well. I know the scene with Meg might seem a little irrelevant, but I wanted the two friends to see each other again. It's a bit of a break from the angst. The last third of this chapter is...not a happy one. Please continue to review, though. You wouldn't want me to get discouraged and leave the story as it is, would you? ;) Just kidding.

I leave you with a quote:

_Every decision is liberating, even if it leads to disaster. Otherwise, why do so many people walk upright and with open arms into their misfortune?_

-Elias Canetti

**Read and Review!**

Christine hung up the telephone and heavily sat down on the couch, blinking as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the dusty living room window. A musty smell still hung in the air, the result of the apartment remaining unused for over a month. The stain on the ceiling had nearly doubled in size from the growing leak. Momentarily escaping the dismal surroundings, she stared into space for several seconds, only to be brought back to reality when Raoul stood beside her. "How's it going?" he gently asked, hair still slightly damp from the shower. "Did you get any more information?"

She bit her lip and looked up. "The funeral is the day after tomorrow, but no one will tell me much more than that. Some of her relations might come by and pick up what they wanted. I don't know. I'm just going to go to the funeral, check out with the landlord, and leave with my things. They can sort the rest of it out. Most of them never even visited."

"Yeah. Sounds like a good idea." He took a seat next to her. "You...Where do you think you're going to go afterward?" He asked the question hesitantly, unable to hide the worry in his eyes.

Christine was quiet for several moments. "I don't know right now. I'll think about it later."

Raoul frowned and looked as though he were going to say something disapproving. Sensing her discomfort, he just nodded and leaned back. "All right, then."

Truthfully, she had thought of nothing else all that morning and afternoon. Thoughts and questions flooded her mind while she packed boxes and organized what she could. The revelation of the night before continued to remain true, no matter how she attempted to pick it apart. Several times, Christine had started to tell Raoul that she would be returning to New York when this was all over. Running away wasn't an option. His calm blue eyes kept her silent, though. It occurred to her several times that she would likely never see her friend again. Erik would become her sole companion.

It was funny. Even after years of not seeing each other, she and Raoul had already fallen into a sort of domestic pattern. They took turns with the shower, ate breakfast at the table, and made idle comments about things like the weather or the news. She attempted to picture their lives if they were to remain together, smiling as images of children and dogs came to mind...normal things. There was a quiet and calm attraction between them that stemmed from their youth. Months ago, she would have been nothing short of thrilled to have a handsome and kind young man romantically interested in her. It was the kind of happiness that every girl wanted. Her heart had even fluttered upon first seeing him again.

And still...a reluctance to permanently part with her childhood friend lingered. Raoul would never chase her in a rage or scream at her. Raoul didn't have dark secrets behind hidden doors, and he didn't stay up late making strange phone calls. She understood him, and there was immense comfort within that fact.

Yet, her thoughts and longings remained with Erik. She couldn't pull her mind away from him, and the idea of never seeing him again was painful. The development of her feelings had been slow, perhaps even starting when he was nothing but an ethereal voice. Of course, there had been times when she had almost despised him as well...had looked upon him in pure terror. The music had drawn them together, though. Their hours at the piano had been surreal. She had begun to feel nothing short of enthralled when they were together, particularly on the night they had attended the opera. It was a warm, dizzying sensation.

Christine even found herself missing him these last few days. True, Erik could be overbearing with his desire to please her, and she felt somewhat more relaxed without the constant gaze of the golden eyes. But she missed their voice lessons and conversations. She missed his subtle gestures, graceful stride, and almost timid touches. It felt as though a part of her were missing...as though there were a hole inside of her heart. If she were to leave Erik, would the feelings grow stronger or completely disappear? As the moment, she thought the former more likely.

Still, the darker facts remained. Even if she didn't want to admit it to him, Raoul had been right when he stated that she was still a virtual prisoner. She wasn't free in every sense of the word. If she were free, Erik would have given her a choice. If she were free, she could spend time with her friend without fear. _If only there wasn't fear...Of Erik's temper...Of what lay behind the mask..._

"Christine?" Raoul's voice dragged her out of her confusing thoughts.

"Huh?" She looked up and gave him an apologetic smiled. "Oh. I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"It's fine," he gently replied. "I just asked when you were meeting with Meg."

"Tomorrow." Christine frowned and fingered the white lace on the throw pillow. "She sounded kind of strange when I called. I think she's mad at me for disappearing without a word. Can't say that I blame her."

"Like I said, it wasn't your fault. You've been through a lot. I'm sure she'll understand."

"I hope so. I'm not going to be able to tell her very much." She reclined back onto the couch with a sigh. "Since when did you become so reasonable?" Christine asked with a smile. "I was always the reasonable one when we were kids."

Raoul chuckled and made a face. "I don't know. Maybe some of Phillip rubbed off on me."

She laughed. "Maybe so." He started to reach for her hand in the lightheartedness of the moment, but Christine quickly stood up from the couch. To let them go anything beyond friends right now would be bordering on cruel. "I guess we should...finish packing before any of the relatives arrive. I'd like to get it done by today."

Raoul nodded. If he was disappointed by her reaction, he showed no sign "All right. Let's get to it."

"Let's."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" asked Christine, staring up at the two-story brick home with slight anxiety. As always, the front yard was neatly trimmed and swept of any fallen leaves. Had the weather been warmer, colorful flowers and shrubs would have decked the front yard. Meg's house always had an ideal look to it, the perfect picture of suburbia. 

"Nah," he replied, putting the car into park. "You two need some time to catch up. I'll just...take a look around the town. There's got to be something to do around here."

"All right," she replied, knowing it was probably for the better. She looked up at the house and bit her lip, before finally opening the car door. "Here goes nothing."

"Have a good time! I'll be back in a couple of hours."

She nodded and shut the door behind her, momentarily watching as the car drove away. Pushing her hair out of her face, she began her way up the cobblestone walkway. Taking a slightly trembling hand, she rang the doorbell and heard the chime play a familiar classical melody. _Hadn't Erik played that once...?_

Within a couple of seconds, the door swung open, and Christine was face to face with Meg Giry. Her brunette hair was clipped shorter, with her bangs feathered around the side of her face. Other than that, she looked like the same old Meg. They just stared at each other for a moment. Christine finally stepped forward and embraced her friend's shoulders. "I'm so sorry," she said, softly.

Meg slowly hugged her back. "God, Christine. At first, I thought you were mad at me over something. Then, I wondered if you'd been kidnaped! I nearly called the police!"

She drew back and shook her head. "I wanted to call you, but it was very difficult. Everything just kept happening."

"But where have you been?" Meg asked, brushing away a tear and leading them into the spotless living room. "I tried calling. I looked for you at school_..."_

"I've been in New York," she replied, slowing forming a believable story in her mind. "In the city. I've been singing."

Meg gaped. "Really? That's great, Christine! But why didn't you at least call? Have you been with Raoul the whole time? Didn't he have a phone?"

"I couldn't call from where I was. And...no. I wasn't with Raoul." She looked away from Meg's curious gaze. "I'm sorry. I can't explain everything."

"But...have you been down there by yourself?" Meg asked, eyes widening.

"No. Of course not," she replied with a laugh. "Me? In the city by myself? I wouldn't survive for a day." She paused. "I stayed with...my vocal instructor."

"Oh. Did she just let you stay at her house, or..."

"_He_ did," interrupted Christine, wincing as she revealed more than she had intended to. Once again, she was feeling the urge to tell someone. Not everything...Just enough to clear her head a little. Meg wasn't one to try and force a decision upon her.

"You're blushing," her friend stated, leaning forward excitedly. "Oh my gosh. Are you seeing someone else, then? You have a ring!"

Christine almost laughed at how simple Meg made it sound. She sighed, realizing how much she had missed her carefree friend. "No. Not really. Well...it's...complicated."

"Complicated? And you're stuttering. After you left me without a word, you better give me the details, Christine Daae."

"No. It's just...he's really helped my voice improve. I might start singing professionally. It's been...amazing in some ways."_ And enthralling...and terrifying...and wonderful...and horrible..._

Meg rolled her eyes. "Is that really it? I mean...you suddenly leave with this strange guy into the city. I've never even heard of him until now. What's his name? How old is he?"

Christine shook her head and smiled. "It's really complicated, Meg. But he...he is...older." She didn't want to give the name away. Had she not accidentally spoke Erik's name aloud weeks earlier, she wouldn't have told Raoul either.

"So..." Meg began again, getting frustrated with the lack of information. "Is he really just your instructor...or...is there more?"

Christine stared down at the ring for several moments. "There is more," she quietly replied, more to herself than to Meg. "I think there is."

Meg smiled and hugged her. "That's great, Christine! I still wish you had let me know you were alive...but I'm happy for you. Is he here right now? Can I meet the guy who stole my best friend for a month?"

Christine buried her head into her hands, both disturbed and amused by the fact that Meg was treating Erik as though he were some older crush. But she decided to leave it at that. Why should she worry her best friend any more than she already had? Besides, she already felt better about things. What if it was that simple? She loved him. Maybe that was enough to be excited about. "He is...not here right now. He's very private. But enough about that." She quicky changed the subject. "How are things here? How's school?"

Her friend looked a little peeved at the change of topic but gave in. "Things are about the same. We're doing another musical this spring. Um...I've been dating a couple of guys but nothing serious." She paused. "Oh! I know. After that one night at the theater, Charlotte changed majors. She said she never wants to act again." Meg giggled. "I think she's majoring in English."

"Poor Charlotte," replied Christine, feeling a little guilty. Everything that had happened in those months had been done in her name. Erik would truly do _anything _for her.

"Eh. She deserved it."

Christine smiled. "Maybe."

They chatted the rest of the afternoon over a bag of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa. Topics ranged from school, to the death of her guardian, to the future. Meg was still considering going to Spain for a couple of months. Christine awkwardly said that she intended to continue singing, always attempting to keep the conversation away from her voice instructor. Although there was a slight tension between them, the overall mood was relaxed. For a couple of hours, Christine was partially able to forget her problems. Even if things hadn't become simpler, at least she was able to clear her mind.

"Raoul's going to be here soon," Christine stated several hours later, slowly standing up from the couch. "I guess I'd better get going."

"All right," replied Meg, with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow at the church, then. Two o'clock?"

"Yeah. I don't know why they scheduled it so late..."

"It's fine, Christine. As long as you get to say your goodbyes. I know you'll miss her."

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

"All right. Take care."

"Bye," she replied, almost wishing she didn't have to leave the comfort of her friend's home. She couldn't put this off much longer, though. It was time to face reality and to make a choice. Maybe love was enough. Maybe it was as simple as Meg made it sound...even if Raoul wasn't able to understand.

Opening the door and stepping out into the afternoon sunlight, she was surprised to see Raoul standing outside next to his BMW. Even from a distance, Christine could see that his mouth was set in a grim expression. In his right hand, he held a thick, folded newspaper. "What's wrong?" she asked, jogging over. A nervous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

"I..." He sighed and held up the newspaper. It was a copy of the _New York Post. _"I saw this at a gas station."

She looked down at the headlines in confusion, only seeing several articles on the economy and the Middle East. "What?"

"At the bottom."

Christine glanced down, her eyes widening in shock as they focused on the headline. "Oh my God," she whispered, reading the first few sentences. "No...It couldn't..."

"Do you think...?" Raoul began, before tapering off. "What if he...?"

"No!" she unintentionally snapped back. "I mean...I don't know. I don't know. Let's go home." Her eyes darted around the empty streets. "Let's not talk about it here."

He nodded and climbed into the car. Half in a daze, she got in on the other side, still gripping onto the newspaper. They drove back to the apartment in silence, Christine's face growing whiter by the moment. She attempted to keep her eyes away from the article...cringing each time the headline flashed into her mind.

_Award-Winning Producer and Director Carl Piane Missing-Police Suspect Foul Play_

Raoul finally spoke as he drove up next to the complex, keeping his voice calm. "That was the guy who came into the closet, wasn't it? The one who wanted you to audition for him. Did you know about this?"

"I..."A shiver ran through her body. _The phone number! The sheet!_ "No," she whispered. "I didn't know anything..."

"Do you think..." he again began, before Christine frantically interrupted him.

"No! We don't have any proof. Nothing! It's just a coincidence. Maybe he just went on vacation and didn't tell anyone or something. It could be anything!"

Raoul sighed and switched off the car, before turning around to face her. "Christine...let's think this through. A guy shows interest in your talent. You rehearse for him, and suddenly he ends up dead. And didn't you say you saw his phone number in the...hidden room?"

"Well, of course Erik would have his phone number! He had to contact him. And we don't even know if Mr. Piane is dead! He's just missing." She choked back a sob. "It wouldn't make any sense. Erik had no reason to..."

"Listen to me," he gently began, taking her shaking hand into his. "Please listen to me. This guy is dangerous. He doesn't need a reason to do what he does. He's a psychopath. Look at everything else he's done! Why is this any different?"

"He's not!" she protested between tears. "He just...Erik just can't be like everyone else because of his face. But he didn't have anything to do with this. You don't have any proof."

"Let me get you out of here," he whispered , staring into her glossy eyes. "Let me free you from all this. Look...if you never want to see me again after that, then fine. You know I love you, but it's not about that. I just don't want to see you in the newspaper, Christine. I don't want to see you hurt."

She took a shuddery breath. "I couldn't leave, Raoul. I can't leave him. You have to understand...that...I need him. I can't leave."

"What's going to happen if you go back? I'll never see you again, right? No one will ever see you again. You'll disappear off the face of the earth. You need to get away while you still can." He gestured to the newspaper. "Before this happens..."

She stared out the window with a dull look in her eyes and her face an unhealthy shade of grey. "It would destroy him," she murmured. "And we don't have any proof..."

"You need proof that he killed someone...after all you saw? You saw the body, Christine. You know what he's capable of!"

"I saw a sheet..."

"In a chemical lab!"

"It wasn't a..." She tapered off, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why would he do this? Mr. Piane was trying to help me! It doesn't make any sense."

Raoul slowly embraced her. "This isn't your fault, Christine. The fact that you're still alive is... amazing. Let me get you out of this nightmare."

"We can't," she whispered into his shoulder. "It would never work..."

"I've got two plane tickets on reserve," he hesitantly began. "To Seattle. The other end of the country. We can get away...at least for a little while. We'll still be close enough to Canada to even leave the country. When is he coming back to get you?"

"Three days after the funeral," she numbly stated. Her heart thundered painfully inside of her chest. She couldn't think. What if Erik had killed him? What if he had? But why? _Why, Erik?_ Raoul continued to speak to her.

"You need to go to Mrs. Valerius' funeral tomorrow. I need to run back to the city...get what I need to leave. I was in such a hurry that I forgot my driver's license!" He sighed but clenched his jaw in determination. "Phillip's going to have a fit. I need to clear some things up with him. I should probably get my passport, too, in case we need to leave the country." Raoul paused and frowned. "I don't want to leave you here alone, but bringing you back to the city might be worse. Maybe you could stay with Meg."

She could barely comprehend what he was saying...only that he meant to get her away from Erik. A cloud of confusion enveloped her mind. Nothing seemed right, anymore. What if Raoul was right? What if he was nothing but a cold-blooded killer? But Erik loved her! He would never hurt her. Right? _Right? _"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know."

"After I get back from the city...I'll pick you up and drive us to the airport. We'll be gone before he ever finds out."

Christine pulled out of his embrace and looked him directly in the eye. "He'll follow, Raoul. He'll search until he finds us. Then, he'll kill you."

"Then maybe we should call the police. Get a SWAT team surrounding the area."

"No!" she angrily exclaimed. "I don't want anything like that to happen to him."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, desperately. "You're not making any sense."

"I know!" She released a sharp sob, her face flushed and soaked with her tears. "But I do care about him. He's done so much for me."

Raoul sighed and held her. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm scared for you. What would happen if you went back? What kind of life would you live with someone like that?"

"I know," she whispered. "I know. It's not right. Nothing about it is right. I just don't want anything terrible to happen to him. He'll be so hurt…..You don't understand how much I mean to him." She swallowed. "I….just wish everything would be okay. Why does he have to do these things? Why Mr. Piane?"

Raoul was silent for a moment. "I don't know, Christine. I really don't."

"I don't know what to do."

"Let me get you out of here. He won't find us. The world is too big. I promise that no police will be involved. I just want to get you somewhere safe." She didn't reply for several moments. "Will you at least seriously think about it? Please?"

Christine slowly nodded, knowing that she would need time alone before any of this ever made sense. "I will." She wiped her eyes. "I'm so sorry I'm being like this. I just…I don't know what to do. Every time I make a decision, I'm afraid it's the wrong one. Nothing seems right."

"I know it doesn't. But you'll figure it out soon. We'll figure it out."

She put her head back down against the seat, staring off into the distance. "I'm scared."

"I know."

A silence passed.

"What's going to happen?"

He paused. "I'm not completely sure."

She shuddered as a draft of cold air entered the car, leading Raoul to offer those several words of comfort.

"_Everything will be fine, Christine. I promise."_


	35. Chapter 35

Wow. Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews on both this and the companion piece. I'm glad you guys liked Erik's point of view. If I ever think of another place that his POV might be interesting, I'll add it to "Prelude..." If you guys have any specific places in the story you want to see Erik's POV, feel free to tell me.

I'm getting different requests for pairings, which is a good thing. It makes me feel that I've given Christine two viable options. That being said, I doubt the requests will change the ending. It's been planned for a while. :)

**Hope you enjoy! Read and Review!**

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for several moments, wearing a plain, black dress that fit loosely over her thin frame. The outfit made her white skin stand out even more, giving her an almost ghostly appearance. The heavy onyx ring upon her finger matched the ensemble, glinting in the fluorescent lighting. Her blonde hair was neatly pushed back out of her face by several barrettes, although the strong winds would likely blow it out of place by the end of the day. Christine cringed as droplets of rain began to patter upon the roof.

Raoul walked in behind her through the open door, casually dressed in blue jeans and a Dartmouth sweatshirt. "You look...nice," he unsurely stated, gazing over her somber outfit.

She laughed wryly. "I don't think I'm supposed to look nice at a funeral."

He smiled. "Well...you do anyway."

Christine sighed and bit her lip. "I don't know if I can do this." She allowed him to interpret what _this_ was.

"I know it's hard, Chris. But it will be fine. See everyone that you know, and say your goodbyes to a wonderful woman. I should be back by some time this evening, and our flight leaves tomorrow morning around nine. Maybe we should drive to Boston tonight and stay at a hotel. How does that sound?"

"Boston?" she asked, dumbly.

"Our plane leaves from Logan. I didn't...want to take us back to New York."

"Oh." Everything was suddenly happening so quickly."I...Raoul...I don't know if I can..." She stuttered out the words, unclear of what she was trying to say. _I don't know if I can go with you..._

He gently placed a strong arm around her shoulders. "You can, Christine. We're going to get through this together. After you're free from this mess, you'll realize what's been going on. I promise. If I'm wrong, you can punch me later." Raoul smiled at her through the mirror.

She laughed weakly. "Just be careful."

"I will be. Nothing's going to happen." He stepped out of the bathroom and returned a moment later with a large bouquet of red roses in hand. "You're going to be getting a lot of flowers today...but...here are some from me."

Her eyes widened as she took them and inhaled their sweet scent. "Wow! They're gorgeous. I...thank you! I'll put them in some water. Maybe they'll add some color to this place."

"Glad you like them," he replied, giving her a one-armed hug. "I'd better get out of here if I'm going to be back by this evening. Are you going to be okay here?" His tone had become more confident as his certainty of his plan grew. In his eyes, everything was running smoothly...heading in the right direction.

"Yeah," she softly replied, staring down at the flowers. "I'll be fine here. Thanks."

"All right." He hugged her one last time. "I'll be back soon."

Christine slowly nodded, unable to get anything she wanted to say out of her mouth. "Okay."

After putting on his winter coat and throwing up the hood, her friend departed into the dismal weather. As he closed the door behind him, she realized that she was now alone in the silence of the apartment. Only the sound of the falling rain droplets created any noise. An unpleasant feeling of anxiety settled over her. Several hours still remained before the funeral.

Nervously wringing her hands together, she finally settled down on the worn couch and turned on the television, grateful to see that the cable had not yet been disconnected. Blocking all troubling thoughts from her mind, she flipped to reruns of some classic television shows. As a cold draft blew into the apartment, she unfolded the wool blanket that lay on the couch and draped it over her legs. Lying her tired head down upon the armrest of the sofa, Christine lost herself in the antics of _I Love Lucy_.

She dozed off for a while to the sound of the laugh track and raindrops, burrowing down into the warmth of the couch cushions. Memories of her past briefly returned, of her sitting by the lake with her father and Raoul...singing...going to school with Meg. The last vision was of Erik taking her hand and holding it up to his mask...her promising him that she would return. And he had believed her. The yellow orbs had been full of nothing but trust...adoration...love.

When Christine finally opened her eyes and sat up on the sofa, she saw that it was nearly time for the funeral. Blinking a shadowy dream away, she scrambled up from the couch and checked herself in the mirror one last time. As pale as she currently was, Christine could have been going to her own funeral. Sighing, she quickly turned off the lights, gathered up her purse and keys, and left the apartment.

The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle continued to fall. It seemed almost cliché...a dank, rainy day for a funeral. Pushing her damp hair out of her face, she climbed into her Honda and started up the engine. Christine gripped onto the steering wheel for several moments, gathering her thoughts together as the windshield wipers swished back and forth. Backing the car out of the lot and onto the road, she allowed herself to face the decision that was looming in front of her. Time had become precious.

By this time the next day, she could very well be on an airplane to the other end of the country. It seemed too sudden, but Raoul's reasoning made sense. If they truly wanted to get away, and Raoul did, there was little time left to do so. Even after the newspaper article, though, she still didn't know if she wanted to escape.

The question had grated at her all night, causing her to toss and turn in a restless sleep. Escape was a chance to have everything back that had been stolen...a chance to return to school...to be around people again...to have a normal relationship with someone who loved her. And yet, she would also be losing so much as well. Her chance at a career would diminish, of course, but she would be losing _him_. Her strange companion and instructor...her friend...her Erik. _Her_ Erik.

Christine sadly laughed at herself as she turned onto the next road, careful to avoid the deep puddles that lined the curbs. Since when had she become possessive? Nevertheless, an ache consumed her insides whenever she thought of forever leaving him. The anguish in those yellow eyes once he saw that she was gone...that was unbearable to think of. She knew that she would destroy him.

_Erik_. _I never would have run...if it hadn't been for the death. The white sheet...Mr. Piane. Why? Why so much death?_

As she pulled into the parking lot of the small church, she saw that many cars were already there. A huge crowd wasn't expected, but Mrs. Valerius did have relatives in neighboring states, plus a good number of friends at the university. Christine found a parking space near the front door and pulled in. She just sat there for several moments and stared at the passing groups of people.

The night before, she had literally prayed that Erik hadn't murdered Mr. Piane, although her better judgement told her otherwise. If he were still no more than a cold-blooded killer, how could she possibly go back? What if Raoul was right? What if she were the next victim? He loved her, though. She was sure of this. It was the only thing that she knew for certain.

And what if Raoul was wrong? What if Erik was innocent of this crime? She would be leaving him alone out of a false fear.

She wondered what he was doing right now, if he was thinking of her. Several times, Christine worried that he had become aware of Raoul's current plans. There could be no way that he knew anything, though. As paranoid as she had been, nothing had given her any hint that he was ever listening. No. Erik was likely awaiting her return. He was waiting for her to come back to him.

_Would she be there?_

Christine turned off the engine and climbed out, shivering as a torrent of icy droplets fell upon her head and shoulders. Hugging her arms to her chest, she walked forward and into the warm confines of the church lobby. A variety of crucifixes greeted her on all sides, and the smell of wood drifted through the air. Light chatter came from inside the main room, along with a church organ that was softly playing a hymn. As she walked in, her eyes immediately focused on the closed casket at the front. A wreath of flowers had been placed atop it, and several lily arrangements sat to the sides. She swallowed and closed her eyes, holding back any tears that threatened to fall. Meg was sitting toward the center, and Christine quickly walked over to her friend, smiling kindly at the few people she recognized.

"Hi, Meg," she whispered, smoothing out her skirt and sitting down in the pew.

"Christine!" her friend exclaimed with a smile. "I was afraid you weren't going to get here."

"No. I made it. I just...fell asleep on the couch longer than I should have."

Meg gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You look exhausted."

"I am. I didn't...sleep well last night."

"Well...you do have a lot on your mind."

"Yeah," Christine began, before being cut off by the sound of the elderly preacher's voice. Both glanced up as the room fell respectfully silent and the organ stopped playing.

"Good afternoon," he began, in a strong but gentle voice. His wrinkled hands rested atop the wooden altar, and his kindly blue eyes gazed across the room. "We gather here on this day in February to say goodbye to a cherished member of our community..."

A tear finally found its way down Christine's cheek, forming a small pool at the corner of her lip.She momentarily closed her eyes as the sermon continued, wondering if any clarity could be found in his words of hope.

"We should live each day as though it were our last," he continued. "...never taking what God has given us for granted. Like Hazel Valerius, we should look for the good in everything. We should not fear what tomorrow will bring...but enjoy the blessings of today. Because, my dear friends, we may not have another tomorrow left on this earth..."

_But there was going to be a tomorrow _she thought, miserably. _And how could she not fear what it would bring?_

Christine buried her face in her hands.

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this! Over some stupid girl? Have you completely lost it?" 

Clenching his jaw, Raoul turned from the drawer he had been looking through for the last hour and faced his older brother. "Would you get out of my room? I told you my decision. Nothing you say is going to change it. All right? Now get out." He turned back around, ignoring Phillip's irritated sigh.

"She's just going to play around with you. Girls like that make a hobby out of screwing around with other guys. Even you should know that one."

Raoul angrily whirled back around again. "Don't ever speak about her that way again! You don't know anything that's going on. If you knew half of it..." He muttered something and looked to the ground. "Just forget it. Get out."

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. But what about money? I suppose you just expect me to wire it to you and your girlfriend in Seattle, right? Is that it?" Phillip scowled. "What exactly are your plans?"

"Look. If you want to help out, then fine. If you don't, I'll find a way to make it on my own. I'm getting Christine out of here. That's all I care about right now."

"If this is that serious, have you ever considered calling the police? That'd be a heck of a lot easier than running away."

Raoul tiredly rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. It would. But...I'm not going to do that." He continued on before Phillip could interrupt. "Have you seen my passport? Also...where's the file with all our personal information...social security cards?"

Phillip sighed. "Yeah. They're in dad's old office. Will you please just think this through first? I mean you're permanently going to Seattle with nothing but a couple of suitcases."

"Thanks. I have thought it through."

Raoul walked past his irritated sibling and toward the front of the enormous house. After a brief hesitation, he took the silver handle and opened the door to his father's former office. Everything had been neatly put into stacks and piles, untouched for months. The smell of polished wood and dusty book covers met him, along with the faint scent of cologne. Ignoring a feeling of melancholy, he went over to a file cabinet and began digging through several folders. Checking the antique wall clock, he saw he still had about an hour before he needed to return. The drive had taken longer with the weather.

Hearing a soft jingling sound, he looked up to see that his Dalmatian, Zeus, had entered the room. Raoul glanced back down and continued to look through the folders, frustrated at the mixed up documents. His mother might know where things were, but she was staying with her local relatives, recovering from mild depression over the death of her husband. Finally, he closed the drawer and went to the computer, wondering if anything was stored on a disk.

As he logged on, he heard the jingle of Zeus's collar again and glanced over his shoulder. The dog was sitting upright with his ears perked and his eyes focused on the window. Raoul shrugged and started to turn back around, freezing in place when he heard a low-pitched growl come from the back of Zeus's throat. All of his short hairs were standing on end, his back hunched as if ready to attack. "What's wrong, boy?" asked Raoul, standing up from his seat. A nervous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the dog continued to growl.

Giving Zeus a reassuring pat on the head, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The wind was still blowing, and the sky was an unpleasant shade of grey. All of New England was experiencing bad weather that day. Tomorrow wasn't supposed to be any better.

Looking around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The landscaped front yard was empty, save for the bare trees and bushes that were blowing under the gusts of wind. Someone's trash barrel had toppled over and was slowly tumbling down the road. Raoul jumped and turned around as his dog released a loud, angry bark. The animal then resumed its low growl. "There's nothing out here," he said, feeling slightly uneasy. "What's wrong with you?"

Shaking his head, Raoul turned to look out the window again. He blinked several times and gripped the curtain in shock, wondering if he had imagined it. A dark, tall shape had just passed in front of his vision, like a shadow from something high above. But there was no sunlight that day! It couldn't have been a shadow.

The dog continued to loudly growl. Taking several steps backward, Raoul whirled around and began digging through his father's top desk drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed the silver handgun and ran outside, gripping the cool metal beneath his fingers. His dog raced in front of him, barking viscously at something unseen.

"Zeus! Stop!" Raoul yelled, as the dog ran behind the corner of the brick home. He chased after him, nearly sliding on the slick grass. Zeus had now stopped running and was barking at something cornered in an alcove on the side of the house. Only able to see the vague outline of a shadow, Raoul raised the gun and slowly approached the intruder, his hands shaking slightly as he came around the corner. The only time he had fired a weapon was at a shooting range. The paranoia of the last several days had put him on extreme edge.

Taking a deep breath, he lunged forward to get a clear view. As he did so, Zeus let out a yelp of pain, scrambling backwards and away from the apparition. Raoul aimed the gun and looked at the spot where the shadow had stood... only to see absolutely nothing. His dog ran back to his side, appearing just as disoriented as Raoul currently felt. All was still and quiet. Whatever had been there had disappeared in the time it took for him to blink his eyes.

A twig suddenly snapped behind him, causing him to turn around with the gun held high in the air.

"What the hell are you doing!" exclaimed Phillip, holding up his hands in self-defense. "Have you gone completely crazy?"

Raoul released a sigh of relief and lowered the weapon, his heart hammering in his chest. "Someone was out here," he explained, trying to catch his breath. "Zeus...was barking at something."The dog was now sitting at Raoul's side and licking its paw, slightly traumatized but not seriously injured.

Phillip continued to stare at him as though he were insane. "So what if he was? Maybe he was barking at the trash guy or something? You're going to get arrested for running around with that thing." He gestured to the gun.

"I know. I just...I thought it was _him_. And there was something out here."

"You thought it was who?"

Raoul shook his head. "Never mind. Forget it. Let's go back inside." He began to slowly walk back toward the house, holding the gun limply at his side.

Phillip looked after him in complete bewilderment, before beginning to follow behind. Suddenly, his older brother stopped dead in his tracks and gaped, his eyes fixed upon the driveway. "Holy..." he whispered.

"What?" Raoul asked dully, turning around to see his brother's expression of horror. He followed his gaze to the two cars in the driveway, his BMW and Phillip's Corvette. Raoul's own mouth now fell open.

All of the tires were slashed to black shreds of rubber. Two of the windows on the BMW had been completely shattered. The paint on the BMW had also been maliciously scratched up with a sharp object, leaving silver markings all along the sides.

Phillip ran a hand through his hair. "My God." He uttered several obscenities. "What the hell happened? Who the hell...?" He looked blankly around the empty streets for the perpetrator.

Raoul just stared at the mangled vehicles for several moments...a growing look of horror coming over his face...but not over the condition of the cars. "He knows..." he whispered. "He knows everything."

"What?" asked Phillip, turning around. "Who are you talking about? What's going on? Do you know who did this?"

Raoul backed up several feet. "I've got to get back. He's going to get to her first now...but I've got to get back."

"Would you make some damn sense? Where are you going?"

"To call a cab!" he exclaimed, running into the house. He stopped and cursed. "No. A cab isn't going to go that far. I need to borrow someone's car."

Phillip took off after him and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "You're going to tell me what's going on before you do _anything!_ And put that gun down!"

Raoul turned around and pushed his older sibling away from him. "No. I'm going now. And I'm taking the gun with me. Either help me find a car or get away from me! All right?"

His brother slowly backed away and shook his head. "You're on your own on this one. I don't know what you're doing...but..."

Raoul was already making his way out the door with a gigantic suitcase. Several phone calls later, he had managed to convince a friend to lend him an old car. Phillip just watched from the background in complete confusion. From the look of determination on Raoul's face, though, he knew better than to try and stop him. Something was seriously wrong.

When his younger brother had finally left the house without another word, Phillip dialed the police to put in a report about the vandalized cars. About an hour later, he poured himself a glass of red wine and sat down in the den to clear his head. Just as he had turned the television to a basketball game, the phone rang two times.

When he answered, no one was there.


	36. Chapter 36

I hope everyone finds this chapter semi-interesting, even if it's not quite the climax you're looking for. A little historical research was done for the second half, and obviously much of it is made up. Basically, most of the broad facts concerning the countries were researched. Anything involving Erik is fictional. You'll see what I mean when you get there. Other than that, the chapter should speak for itself!

**Read and Review!**

Christine hugged her arms to her chest and shivered as the pinewood coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. Cold raindrops stung her cheeks, and the wind blew her hair in all directions. All around her stood black-clad people, huddled for warmth and eager to get out of the dismal atmosphere. The preacher uttered a few more words of blessing, but his voice was carried away by the wind as the casket disappeared beneath the damp earth. As the ritual came to an end, people quickly began to make their way back to their cars, quietly talking amongst themselves in small groups.

"Are you okay? I know this must have been hard."

She looked up to see Meg standing beside her with a concerned expression. Her friend had been there for her the entire time, and Christine almost felt guilty for being so withdrawn. "Yeah. I'll be fine. It's just been a long day." Noticing that the already gray sky was becoming darker, Christine frowned. "What time is it?"

Meg turned on her cell phone and checked the clock. "A little after five."

"It's getting late," she murmured.

Her friend nodded. "Yeah. A little, I guess. Where are you going next? Do you want to come over to my house for a while? You can even stay the night if you want."

Christine glanced up at the other people who were leaving the cemetery. She had heard that there was a small reception afterward but had immediately decided not to attend. The last thing she needed was to be crammed into a room with dozens of unfamiliar faces. "I...yeah," she finally answered. "Maybe for a little while. Raoul's coming soon to pick me up, though."

Meg blinked in surprise. "Raoul? Are you guys just friends...or...I mean...I thought..." She laughed at herself. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"No," Christine began, as they walked forward and through the iron gates of the graveyard. "You're right. It is confusing. It's worse than confusing..."

"Here," Meg said with a reassuring smile. "Let's get into my car where it's warm. Then you can tell me all about it." She opened the door of the Toyota, and Christine climbed in, momentarily waiting as her friend started the engine and turned on the heater. Raindrops continued to pound against the window. "So what's up?"

Christine momentarily allowed herself to relax back into the seat. "Raoul wants me to go with him tomorrow," she stated. "We're flying to Seattle in the morning."

Meg looked up in surprise. "Why? I mean...don't you have a lot going for you here? I don't understand. Why does he want to take you there?"

She wrung her hands together. "Raoul...doesn't think that...he thinks I'm in danger. I don't know." Meg continued to give her a bewildered look. "I'm sorry. It's too complicated to explain everything. I just...I don't know what to do."

"Well...do you want to go with Raoul? Are you really in some kind of danger?"

"I don't know," she softly replied. "Maybe. But maybe not. Sometimes I think that I belong here."

A silence passed between the two friends. "Well..." Meg finally began. "What do you want to do? I guess it's that simple."

Christine laughed. No one ever seemed to ask her that anymore. She pondered the question for several moments in a comfortable silence, gnawing at her lip. "You know what? I do know what I want to do. It's just...I'm scared. There's so much that I don't know."

Meg smiled. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about...But I think you should do what you think is right. Don't let some guys decide for you."

Christine momentarily gazed into the distance. "Maybe I'm completely insane," she murmured. "Maybe it's completely wrong. But I know what I want to do."

"Nothing ever wrong with a little insanity. I'm guessing you're not going to explain all of this to me any time soon?"

Christine smiled slightly and sat up. "I promise to tell you another day, Meg. I've got to get home now...before it's too late." She quickly opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, a new energy in her blue eyes. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

Meg blinked in surprised at her urgency but nodded. "All right. Good luck! Call me whenever you need to."

"I will! Thank you so much for your help!"

Christine rushed off to find her car, being careful not to slide over the damp ground. The sky continued to grow darker with the approaching evening, and the clouds obscured any chance of moonlight. Her heart beat in anticipation, and adrenaline ran through her veins as she finally found her car and unlocked the door. Turning on the engine, she allowed the heat to blow over her frozen face. With a deep breath, she swerved onto the streets, almost in a trance as she drove the short distance to the apartment. Her eyes remained intensely focused upon the road...her mind in deep contemplation.

_What am I doing? I'm so completely confused. _But it was what she wanted. It was a decision that had been made. A frightening and wonderful decision. A freeing decision.

Her head spun as she parked the car in the tenant lot and climbed out, not even noticing the cold temperature anymore. She ran up the wooden steps of the apartment complex, her heals pounding against the damp wood with extreme urgency. Christine unlocked the door and turned on a small table lamp, casting a nervous glance toward the glowing digits on the microwave clock. The call didn't have to be made now, but it would be better for everyone if she did it as soon as possible. Through one phone call, she could put everything back into place.

With shaking hands, she picked up the receiver of the telephone, immediately hearing the dull sound of the dial tone. Christine inhaled deeply, quickly going over what she would say in her mind. Slowly, she punched in the now memorized number. _Yes. Everything would be okay now..._She would figure everything out with time. She had time now.

The phone rang once on the other end. Christine held her breath, her other hand clenched into a tight ball. The apartment remained uncomfortably dark. She had forgotten to turn on a light.

No, she hadn't. She'd turned on a lamp. But it was off now. That was strange.

Something was in the room with her. She could sense a familiar presence nearby. The temperature seemed to drop. Her blue eyes widened as she gazed around in the darkness, clutching the receiver even tighter.

The phone rang a second time.

Or was it a third time?

A hand suddenly clamped down roughly upon her left shoulder, causing her to gasp and drop the receiver, sending it crashing to the floor. Christine whirled around and looked up. Two yellow lights beamed down on her...little beads of fire...a glowing medley of anguish and rage and desperation. She gaped for several moments before the word finally left her mouth. "Erik..."

He loomed above her, seeming to cast a shadow even in the dark. "Calling for a flight schedule?" he calmly questioned in a voice that sent a chill down her spine. "Or perhaps wondering what is taking your _friend_ so long to arrive."

"No," she managed to gasp, attempting to hold her ground. "No. I was just going to call...Erik. I promise..."

"If I am not mistaken," he slowly interrupted. "Mr. Chagny has experienced a delay. Pity, isn't it?"

Her mouth gaped open in horror. "What did you...? Oh God...what..."

He laughed in a horrible way, a grinding sound almost. "Yes. I see how much you worry of his welfare. You think of him constantly, don't you, my dear? _He_ has always been on your confused little mind..." Erik approached to where they were inches apart. "You have been plotting your escape from hell for some time, haven't you? Lying and planning all this time. Oh...poor Christine..." He brushed her hair with his icy fingertips. "Don't you know that there is no escape from Erik?"

Tears began to fall from her eyes, and fear gripped her heart. She had to make him understand. _Please let him understand... _"Erik. I wasn't going to leave...Please..." She wanted to know if Raoul was alive but didn't dare ask now. Everything was completely wrong...

"My Christine," he whispered, taking out something from his black suit jacket and stepping forward. "Even the lies you tell are enticingly beautiful."

"Please," she whispered, taking a step backwards and running into the table. "I promise that I wasn't going to leave...Please believe me...Please tell me you didn't hurt him."

"Yes. You have promised many things, haven't you? And each time, I have believed you. But Erik grows weary of your games now, my dear." He took another step forward and pressed the familiar cloth up to her face, possessively gripping her swaying torso with his other arm in anticipation of her collapse.

Perhaps she should have been terrified, but an intense sadness overtook her in those moments before darkness. _She'd been too late. _A despairing sigh escaped from her lips as the room began to fade.

"Come, Christine," she heard him whisper. "I have tickets for our grand finale."

As her eyes closed, she was able to murmur two final words. "I'm sorry." Christine briefly wondered if he had heard her, before again fading into the void of nothingness.

* * *

The streetlights were slowly coming on, the soft glow reflecting off the puddles that lined the road in front of the apartment complexes. Nadir nervously looked left and right for any sign of Ms. Daae, wondering if he was even in the right location...wondering what new troubles were stirring. 

The Iranian sighed. Maybe he was becoming too paranoid.

After becoming extraordinarily anxious in New York, he had finally thrown some clothes into a suitcase and headed back up to Vermont. There had been absolutely no sign of his masked friend over the last few days. From Nadir's understanding of Erik's incoherent ramblings on that nearly fateful night, Christine had returned to go to her guardian's funeral. He knew that if he could find the girl, he would be able to find Erik. There was no way that Erik would let her out of his sight for very long, no matter what the circumstances.

Nadir had arrived that afternoon, driving nonstop from the city through the rain and wind. After stopping at a coffee house and ordering a cup of tea, he looked over the obituaries in the local paper and saw that four funerals would be held that week: Two elderly men, a teenager, and an elderly woman. It was a fairly easy guess as to which one had been Christine's guardian, the summary even mentioning that the woman had taken in a ward. Nadir frowned as he noticed that the funeral had been held that afternoon, likely ending less than an hour ago. He had hoped to try to reach the girl at the cemetery...maybe talk to her...ask her what was really going on without Erik's looming presence. Or maybe just ensure that she was in good health.

With a sigh, he checked the old woman's last name again and found a phonebook by a payphone. Sure enough, she was listed, the only one with that unusual last name. He was fairly certain that he had seen the street address before in his drives around the town. Nadir frowned and glanced out the café window, noticing how miserable it still was outside. If he did live out the rest of his days in this country, he would be sure to move south...Florida, maybe. This was becoming unbearable.

Having nothing better to do and growing ever anxious, Nadir made the drive toward Christine's apartment, glancing down at a map every so often. He considered getting a hotel room first, but a feeling of urgency had come upon him. A sixth sense.

The streets were nearly empty, people permanently going indoors for the evening to escape the weather. He desperately searched the street signs, driving through some residential areas in the hopes of finding the building. Christine was on the poorer side of town, he knew. He imagined that Erik had used his garnered wealth to buy her many a pretty thing.

Finally, Nadir found the right road, although he still had no clue as to which building she was in. Many of the painted addresses were faded, making it impossible to know exactly where he was. Most of the lights in the homes were turned off, giving him only the streetlights to find his way.

And that was where he sat now...waiting and watching for something unknown. He considered getting out and taking a closer look at the addresses. If he wasn't careful, though, someone would think him suspicious and call the police. Perhaps he should try again tomorrow...when there was daylight. Maybe there was no hurry.

Just as he started to shift gears and turn around, Nadir heard the sharp squeal of tires behind him. He glanced into his rearview mirror and watched as a blue car quickly pulled up on the other side of the road. "Teenagers," he muttered under his breath. Nadir's eyes narrowed curiously, though, as someone suddenly flung open the door and stepped out onto the pavement. The figure then took off running toward a particular apartment building.

The Iranian opened his car door and began to follow, sensing something amiss. He continued to keep a safe distance, watching as the person ascended the steps and opened one of the doors at the top. All the lights in the room flashed on, and he could see the silhouette of someone frantically rummaging through all the rooms in the apartment. Within a minute, the person had emerged again and was racing back down the steps.

Nadir slowly approached, and the figure suddenly took notice of him. Both souls froze in place. As the Iranian's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized that a gun was being pointed directly at him. His gaze drifted upward, and he found himself looking into the frightened blue eyes of Christine's friend. They just stared at each other for several seconds, before Nadir finally found his voice. "Would you mind putting that down?" he asked, maintaining a calm tone. "I do not think that I am the one you wish to shoot."

The young man slowly lowered the weapon, but his eyes remained full of distrust. "You," he stated. "You're always around when something's happening. Who are you?"

Nadir hesitated. "That would take an entire day to tell you." He glanced up to the now dark apartment. "What is going on here?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Why should I tell you anything?" he asked, slightly out of breath. "How do I know you're not working with _him_?"

Nadir sighed. "I assure you that I'm in no way allied with him. He was...an acquaintance from many years ago. But what is happening right now? Please. It may be urgent."

Although the boy still looked unsure of whom to trust, he also seemed in desperate need of help. "I was going to get Christine out of here. She's been terrorized for the past month. We were going to leave tomorrow."

A very disturbed look crossed Nadir's face. "You meant to take her away? Did she agree to go with you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She was scared of what he would do, but I'm sure she wanted to escape. I mean, how could she not want to get out of here?" The young man nervously looked around the neighborhood. "He...he found out that I was with her. The bastard came to my house and damaged my cars a couple of hours ago. I'm trying to..."

"He...he knows, then?" Nadir frantically interrupted, his eyes widening. " Erik knows you were with her? He sabotaged your return..."

"Yeah. I wanted to get back before he got here." A panicked expression contorted the young man's mouth. "Christine's not here, though. Maybe she's with her friend."

Nadir let out a pained chuckle, placing his palm to his forehead in distress. "If Erik knows...and he had a head start...I fear Christine is long gone." He cursed. "Allah help us all."

"He really...He really has her?"

"I fear it would be a waste of time to look here any longer."

"Then where do we go?" the boy panicked. "What do we do? How do we get to her?"

Nadir looked into the distance. "Young man...are you completely and absolutely positive that Ms. Daae meant to leave with you tomorrow? She was frightened? She wanted to get away?"

"She was confused and upset," he replied. "But...she meant to go with me. We had everything planned out."

The Iranian sighed and held out his hand, his expression grim. "My name is Nadir Khan. I am...probably the best ally you have right now, although that isn't saying much."

"Raoul Chagny." They shook hands, both with cold, damp palms. "So where do we go now? The police?"

"My best bet would be back to the city. After that...it is difficult to say. I do not think the police should be involved yet. It might make things worse."

"Damn," Raoul muttered. "I shouldn't have even driven back up here."

"Sure you should have!" replied Nadir, with a depressed smirk. "You wouldn't have met me if you had not come back. Come. Let's get going." He turned to leave.

"Wait. My car is about out of gas. I think there's also something wrong with the brake. It's not mine, actually. I had to borrow."

Nadir turned. "We will take mine, then. It may be best that we travel together anyway, as city traffic is heavy. The last thing we need is to get lost."

Raoul nodded in appreciation. "Thanks."

Nadir unlocked the doors, and they both climbed in. He almost felt sorry for Mr. Chagny, as he could tell that the young man was scared and confused. And he had every reason to be! It was almost a miracle that the boy was still alive. Nadir turned onto the road and drove forward at a high speed, thankful that traffic was not heavy.

"So...can you tell me anything about this?"

Nadir looked over. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything!" he exclaimed. "I just want to know what's going on. Who is this guy? What does he want with Christine? Is he going to hurt her?"

"I'm guessing that you're referring to Erik?" Nadir asked, leaning back into the seat with a sigh. "That is a...long story. But I suppose that I could provide a few details. First...who is Erik?" He paused, a distant look entering his dark eyes. "I first met him in the late eighties when he was...oh, probably around your age. He had been living in Moscow for several years, after spending most of his childhood at some dirty, decrepit orphanage. I'm guessing someone must have discovered his genius and pulled him out of that wretched place."

"Genius?" Raoul asked, obviously beginning to realize that he should have paid more attention to Christine's fears.

"Completely," Nadir replied. "Our students studying abroad there informed us of him...a prodigy in science, medicine, mathematics, language, music...everything. Although under the guise of a university student, he was doing some more secretive work for the faltering Soviet government. It was said that he kept his face hidden at all times...said little to anyone. He was completely detached from everything around him."

"His face?" questioned Raoul. "I mean...Christine said that..."

"Indeed," said Nadir, frowning in memory. "If Erik had a gift, he also had a curse. I can only assume it was a deformity from birth, but...it was something beyond the medicine of that time...perhaps even the present time. He wore a mask to cover it, but that still drew curious glances. Anyhow, the Iranian government took extreme interest in some of his rumored talents. Erik was...doing some very interesting things up in Moscow..."

"Like what?"

"As I said, he was a genius in the sciences...chemistry and biology. He was able to manipulate...Well...I do not have time to go into detail. He was able to make some of the most sophisticated chemical agents that we'd heard of."

Raoul gaped. "Weapons, you mean?"

"Yes. And our country was quite interested. You see...we had just come out of a long war with Iraq. Both countries made use of chemical weapons during that time, nerve agents mostly, but it was clear that Iraq had a superior program. When the war ended, my government became intent on building up its own cache of weapons. Conveniently, the Soviet Union was near collapse and eager to get rid of all signs of its covert programs. After a few currency exchanges, it was easy to bring Erik to Iran. He really had nowhere else to go...certainly no family."

"My God," he muttered. "And I thought he was just some guy off the streets."

"It gets better," the Iranian replied, almost relieved to be getting the story off his chest. "Erik had spent most of his time in Russia hidden behind laboratory walls or in an isolated dorm room. He was...more or less a dirty secret, I believe. We offered him freedom of movement...higher pay...luxury. In return, we received the full scope of his talents."

Raoul hesitated. "So what exactly did he do for your country?"

"Erik could do anything. He strengthened the chemical weapons that we already possessed...created new ones that would give you nightmares. Blister agents, nerve agents, advanced delivery systems. He harvested various viruses into biological weapons...some with no known cure. He..." Nadir made a face. "Was responsible for testing them, as well. I was given the position as a sort of supervisor..."

"Tested them?" Raoul interrupted.

Nadir sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. "Weapons like that have to be tested before being put to use. Although animals were normally used, Erik developed a taste for...humans. He took prisoners, usually traitors of the state, and used them as subjects. Most officials turned a blind eye, even encouraged it for a bit of twisted entertainment." Raoul looked horrified, but the Iranian continued. "You have to understand that Erik separated himself from all humanity. No one had treated him as such...so he...saw himself as something else."

The young man sighed, looking more distraught by the minute. "What happened? Why did he leave?"

"Erik had no loyalties to anyone. As soon as other parties-disgruntled factions and the like-discovered his talents, they traveled from far away to get his secrets. He had no qualms with selling his weapon designs at a high price. Now as secretive as our masked friend was, the Iranian government soon discovered his operations. Needless to say, we weren't pleased."

"They tried to have him killed?"

Nadir nodded. "It was to be quick. A random sniper would come and do away with him one night...no one would ever know. Besides, many were very wary of having a foreigner in there, anyway. What if he were to tell the Americans and Europeans what was going on? Now that we had what we wanted, any excuse for Erik's death seemed reasonable."

"How did he escape?"

The Iranian was silent for several moments, turning onto another dark road. "Over the years, I...formed somewhat of a friendship with Erik. He was young, and I hoped he would realize what good he could do. I attempted to act as a mentor, conversed with him when everyone else was afraid to." Nadir smiled sadly. "He could actually be quite humorous when he was relaxed, was rather witty. And he was interesting...knew everything about anything. When my wife died giving birth to a stillborn, he was one of the few people I could talk to. I was certain that...given some friendship...some guidance...he would realize his potential."

"So _you_ saved him?" Raoul quietly enquired.

"I did. By that time, your country was beginning to send troops into the region for the first Gulf War. Refugee helicopters were constantly around the area, getting people out who opposed the Hussein regime. With the help of some contacts, I snuck him onto one, making him promise that he would give up this science of death for good."

"And then he came here?"

"No. He was taken to Europe, where he remained for quite some time. I've heard that he survived off the Eastern European criminal underground, doing favors and the like. His voyage here was recent." Nadir sighed. "I do not think my wish for him ever came true..."

"What else can he do?" asked Raoul, his face a little paler than it was before. "Christine...she acts like he's superhuman."

Nadir chuckled wryly. "Christine isn't so far off. You name it, and Erik can do it. Chemicals...electronics...Given the right material, he could probably build a sophisticated explosive within a matter of hours. He could work any weapon and move silently enough to effectively use it. I have no doubt that he has earned some of his money making people disappear."

The Iranian paused. "But...Erik can also do things of great beauty. He can play about any musical instrument mankind has to offer...would have been famous for it under other circumstances. I have seen him design buildings that would take your breath away. He also had the capability to cure some of those diseases. I saw him destroy a test tube of deadly viruses for his own amusement once, although he made me swear to tell no one."

"Wow..." muttered Raoul, still in slight shock. They drove in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts. He spoke again, his voice quiet. "And Christine? Why her? How did she get mixed up with this...this man."

"That is something I do not know," Nadir replied. "He likely met her several months back, as he had...business up in Vermont. The girl has affected him in some way that I cannot explain. He is consumed with her, would do absolutely anything for her. It is the closest thing to love that he knows."

"But why did you let it get this far?" Raoul enquired, not hiding the slight disdain in his voice. "If you knew all this, why didn't you stop it?"

A short silence passed. "I did try somewhat, but you are right. I did not try to the best of my ability. I supposed that I...dared to hope that Erik had truly found happiness. It was perhaps a false hope, but I almost wished that Christine would be able to love him back. I wished Erik to have found the peace in his life that he needed through your friend. He was so...well...I had never seen him so content...so human." Nadir choked, before quickly composing himself. "Just the hopes of a delusional old man. I am sorry."

Raoul started to say something else, but he stopped when he saw the despairing look on the Iranian's face. He gazed out the window and into the gathering darkness, a nervous feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Everything was now hazy and uncertain. The clarity of earlier had vanished, leaving him with a hollow sensation.

"Do you know how to use that thing?" Nadir calmly asked after several moments, motioning toward the gun.

Raoul glanced up. "Yeah." He hesitated. "Am I going to have to?" he asked, slightly less confidence in his voice.

Another silence passed.

"I do not see how this night can end with both Ms. Daae free and Erik alive."


	37. Chapter 37

I took some liberties with the setting in this chapter. If you've been to the opera house in New York and want to point something out, please do. I was forced to go off crude photographs and confusing seating charts. Anyway...hopefully it works out.

The end grows closer, my friends.

**Read and Review!**

She heard singing.

The sound was that of a rich baritone, soon accompanied by a tenor and a loud ensemble of string instruments. While the music echoed all around her, it also seemed to originate from somewhere far down below. Although her eyes remained closed, she could sense that the atmosphere was darker. Her neck ached from bending to the side in an awkward position, and her head was uncomfortably propped backward. It took her several seconds to remember all that had happened, and a sudden feeling of fearful realization began to come over her. _Where was she?_

Confused and foggy-headed, Christine slowly raised her head and opened her eyes, nearly letting out a shriek of surprise as she focused on her fairly familiar surroundings. She was back at the Metropolitan Opera House...sitting high up in a balcony box toward the left of the stage. Her eyes momentarily fell on the performance below, along with the thousands of audience members that were watching. A nauseous sensation began to build in her stomach, and the gold-decked circular room tilted and swayed. She briefly wondered if she would pass out again.

Regaining her composure, Christine started to try and stand up, only to find that both wrists were tightly tied to the chair armrests by pieces of white twine. As the music below became louder, a scream began to build in the back of her throat. The icy whisper from behind made her keep silent.

"Calm down, my dear." Her blue eyes widened. "You do not want to ruin the show for the rest of the audience, do you? They will think you insane."

She gasped, her heart hammering inside of her chest. "Erik..." she managed to softly choke out. The music was too loud, and they were too isolated for anyone to hear their voices. Whether by coincidence or not, the boxes around them appeared to be empty. "What...what's going on? What are we doing here?"

A low chuckle greeted her. "I thought you enjoyed the opera, Christine! I procured us tickets to _La Forza del Destino_. Does that not please you? Or perhaps there is no pleasing you. Christine cannot be pleased."

His cold words caused shivers to run up and down her spine. She attempted to calm down and find reason within all of this, wishing that she could turn around and face him. If she could just get him to understand before something terrible happened. "Erik. Please untie me. I don't like this...please. We can talk if you'll untie me." She berated herself for sounding weak but couldn't seem to hide the tremor in her voice.

"But then you will attempt to escape, my dear. And we certainly cannot have that! No, Christine. You will sit here and watch our grand finale until the very end. I will have it no other way. If you are still not impressed, my dear, then I may free you! But only if you stay for the finale."

He wasn't making any sense to her, speaking quickly and cryptically. Desperation and anger marred his voice, but she still didn't understand what his plans were. Christine took a deep breath and attempted to free her arms from the chair. The more she twisted and pulled, though, the tighter the twine became. As a growing panic began to consume her, she again attempted to reach the sane part of his mind...if it still existed. "Erik," she repeated, as gently as possible. "Let's leave. I don't want to stay here."

"But then I will have nothing to give you!" he rasped. "And how shall I ever compete with your boy if I do not give you a finale!"

Her heart froze at the thought of Raoul. She still didn't know if he was alive, feeling ill as various scenarios suddenly passed through her mind. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault. And how would she ever feel anything but loathing for the man behind her? "Erik?" she quietly asked, knowing she was putting herself in danger. "What did you do to him?"

Another bitter chuckle. "Always back to your boy? Ah! But he matters no longer! Tonight, it is just you and I. And our finale!"

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, anger entering her voice. Reason was no longer possible. "What did you do to him?"

Two cold hands roughly clamped down upon her shoulders. Christine braced herself. "Perhaps I tore him into tiny pieces...like the monster that I am..." he hissed into her ear. "Perhaps there is nothing left of your friend..."

She released a quiet sob, gripping onto the arm rests of the chair to steady herself. "Why!" she exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks. " I wasn't even going to..." Christine stopped in the middle of the sentence, knowing that it didn't matter anymore. There was nothing left now, only death and destruction. Her decision had come too late. The damage had been done. "Why?" she repeated, sickly. "Raoul...Mr. Piane..." The next words were out before she could stop them, her despair molded into each syllable. "I...I hate you!"

They had little effect on him.

"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. "You are drawing unwanted attention to us, my love." He stroked her hair. "And that will only bring our finale closer."

She blankly looked down to the performance below. A chorus was currently singing, further muffling their conversation. Even if she had screamed, few would have heard her. "Please let me go," she whispered, knowing it would make no difference. She couldn't reach him...She never would. "I'm scared."

"Why there is nothing to fear, Christine," he stated in a tone of mock soothing. "You will be free after our finale."

She released a sigh of frustration. "What do you mean our finale, Erik? What are you talking about?"

"The ending of every great love story must have a grand finale. I would not have it any other way. Without a finale...there can be no ending..."

"So we're just going to watch until the end of the opera? Is that it? Is that the finale?"

"Smart girl! Yes. That will be our finale." He was quiet for several moments, and she started to lean into the plush seat, wondering if this was just some kind of twisted game. Then, he spoke again. "But it will be a finale like none have ever seen!"

Her eyes widened. "Why? What's going to happen?"

"But that will spoil the surprise, my dear. And that would not do at all!"

Panic began to rise in the back of her throat, and she again attempted to get out of the seat. The singing on stage reached a crescendo, signaling a coming climax. "Please," she whispered...begged. "Tell me what's going to happen."

"You do not enjoy surprises?" he enquired. "What a shame, my dear! But I am sure you are able to understand my surprise when I discovered what you and your little friend had been up to! Ah! Christine does not like surprises. But she quite enjoys lies...deceit..._treachery_." He practically spit the last word out.

Despite everything, a pang of guilt ran through her. "Erik..." she whispered. She could say nothing else, though. Was she to tell the man who had murdered her friend that she had intended on returning to him out of nothing but her heart's desire...while he was behind her ranting in madness...speaking in some crazed riddle? No...It wouldn't have been true anymore. There was terror. Only terror at the moment.

"You thought that I would not find out? I trusted you more than I should have...but I am not blind to the deceit of women. Plane tickets to Seattle? Gallivanting around the town with your lover? Eyes are everywhere, my dear. You will never escape them."

"What? What do you mean?" she asked. "You...you had people watching me?"

"Eyes are everywhere," he repeated, obviously amused at her shock. "Not to mention this lovely little conversation." A tape quietly played behind her, and she guessed he was holding an earpiece up to her ear.

_I don't think I'm supposed to look nice at a funeral_.

_Well...you do anyway. _

_I don't know if I can do this._

_I know it's hard, Chris. But it will be fine. See everyone that you know, and say your goodbyes to a wonderful woman. I should be back by some time this evening, and our flight leaves tomorrow morning around nine. Maybe we should drive to Boston tonight and stay at a hotel. How does that sound? _

_Boston?_

_Our plane leaves from Logan. I didn't...want to take us back to New York. _

_Oh._

It sharply clicked off. Christine shook her head miserably, as if trying to will the entire conversation away.

"Yes," continued Erik. "After you were seen with your boy...your landlord was informed that your apartment might have an infestation. Rats, perhaps. And you know how troublesome rats can be. They are the spreaders of most diseases...the vilest of plagues. Your landlord was quite eager to allow someone inside of the home for an extermination."

"What...?"

"Ears are everywhere." His voice became closer. "I told you there was no escape from me. And I meant it. Only after the finale are you free. Erik will then disappear forever."

She could only guess that he had her apartment bugged, but it didn't matter anymore. He knew. How he knew no longer mattered. "Please listen to me," she began. "You don't understand that I..."

"Oh! I understand perfectly," he interrupted in an angry whisper. "Nothing that _I _could ever give you would be good enough! Never! I gave you everything! Everything I did was for you. But you will always choose him! You will never love me! You will run whenever you can!"

"No! You hurt people! It was never about..."

"Justify yourself all you wish! Your words mean nothing! All of them are lies!"

She groaned hopelessly, twisting in the confines of the seat. "I want to leave," she whispered.

"Only after the finale," he bitterly replied. "You are mine until then."

A shiver ran through her in anticipation of something terrible. This was more than a twisted game. She could hear the deadly anger in his tone, the desire for revenge...to make her suffer. "What's the finale?" she asked. "Please tell me. Maybe there doesn't have to be one."

"But there must be!"

"No. Please tell me. Please, Erik."

A long silence passed in which Christine just sat in the chair, staring blankly at the performance as the tension in the air grew. There was a now a fight on stage...two men in costume battling for some unknown cause. The audience was caught up in the intense excitement, completely ignorant of the drama that was unfolding above them.

"Look directly below you," Erik quietly commanded. "Toward the audience."

She obeyed.

"The first will go off there. The second...several feet to the right. The third...center of the audience... The fourth will be the third row. The fifth, stage right. The sixth...in one of the tiers...for an extra surprise. Perhaps there is a seventh...even an eighth." He spoke very calmly...frightfully calmly. "One right after the other...just like little dominos! And that...my love...is our grand finale. And we will watch from above as it happens below...untouched. And then, I will leave you to yourself. Surely someone will find you up here sooner or later. Perhaps they will even interview you for the morning papers, and then you can tell them of the great finale you witnessed!"

"What?" she whispered in horror. "What's going to happen?"

"Must I really repeat myself, Christine?"

"What's going to go off?" she asked, not even sure if she even wanted to know the answer.

He chuckled. "Stunning fireworks, my dear. Like you have never seen in your life. Yellow, orange, and red lights shall flash before your very eyes! And the sounds will be more magnificent than any symphony ever composed! It will be a masterpiece! A perfect ending to our story!"

Her face paled in horror. She could feel herself become dizzy in realization of what was about to happen, cold perspiration gathering on her brow. Desperately, she attempted to change his mind, praying he had some humanity left in all that anger. "Don't do this! Please don't, Erik. All these people...they don't deserve it."

"Shhh. The more attention you draw to us, the sooner the finale."

"Please," she said softly. "Please don't do this."

"But without a grand finale, there can be no end. The love story continues...we will continue...forever..."

She blinked, slowly beginning to understand now. "If I stay...there won't be a finale?" she softly asked. There was no answer from behind her, which she took to be an affirmation. It was a choice. Of course, there was only one obvious answer. Hundreds of people wouldn't die because of her stupidity...because of Raoul's brashness...because of Erik's madness...

She didn't know what would happen after this. Perhaps she was condemning herself. Still, even if it was out of nothing but duty, she had to stop this nightmare from going forward. "Erik." Her voice was calm. "I'll stay with you. We'll go together. I'll stay."

He laughed coldly. "Of course you say that now, my love. I take it that my finale does not please you? You are quite difficult to please, Christine."

"I promise that I'll stay. I won't ever run. For the love of God, don't do this. Not all these people. Please!"

"You do it only to save their pointless lives! The second you see freedom, you will take it. You will leave me to my hell!"

"No," she gently replied. "I won't. I'll stay with you. I won't ever leave. Please. Please stop it from happening."

A silence passed, in which she sat with every muscle in her body tense. Her hands were slowly growing numb from loss of circulation. Exhaustion was overtaking her, a result of the overwhelming fear and anxiety.

"You will stay forever?" he whispered. She could feel him touch her hair. "As only mine? As my wife even? You will go anywhere with me? Anywhere in the world?"

"Yes," she softly replied, her heart constricting. "I'll stay. I'll go anywhere."

"You realize all can be reset should you go back on your promise? The finale can come any time...anywhere!"

"I know. I'll stay, Erik. I promise."

Another silence followed, and she knew that he was judging her words, determining whether they were true or not. She inwardly prayed that he would trust her. Erik finally spoke, his voice now with a tinge of victory...a distorted sort of hope. "Then you shall have the honor of the first vow, my dear."

She felt a cold sensation touch her right arm and looked down. Two skeletal hands were untying one of her wrists. For the first time that night, she felt slight relief, but it faded as Erik placed a black box into her open palm. The object was about the size of a remote control, tiny wires poking out from the sides. Two large buttons lay at the top with several smaller ones on the edges. "Red to wed, my dear. Green for the finale..."

"What!"

"It is your decision. Your choice of endings...All literally rests in your hands now, Christine." He softly chuckled at his own joke. "It can be no other way."

_Erik was going to make her turn the explosives off! _"Don't make me do this," she pled, staring at the two brightly colored buttons. "I don't want to do this..."

"If you do not, my dear, I rather prefer green...and I will push that one." He laughed. "They will never know what hit them! Each little surprise hidden beneath their seats. You would be surprised how many souls in this city are eager to work for the cause of destruction."

"What if I push the wrong one? How do I know...?" She choked...staring down at the opera...the masses of well-dressed people sitting in the audience...unaware of their possible fate.

"Then it will be a sad mistake, indeed. Your time grows short, Christine."

"But..."

"Now, Christine."

She held her breath and slowly lowered her hand over the black box. Even without seeing him, she knew that Erik's yellow eyes were intensely watching her. The music continued in the background, seeming more and more distant by the moment. A fog surrounded her, and the black box was the only thing that was in focus. With trembling fingers and a throbbing heart, she finally pushed the red button.

Christine squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.

A soft beep sounded into the air, like that of a watch, but nothing more. The opera continued in all its splendor. The singing continued. Life continued without pause. Her body collapsed back into the chair in relief.

"You have chosen red," Erik whispered from behind her. "There is no ending tonight...Yes. We will go now together. We will go far away. And no one will ever find us." As he untied her other wrist, she could only tiredly nod. "Come. We will leave now. We will go." His voice was different from what it had been moments before, nervous and full of disbelief. He sounded almost like a disobedient child who was futilely trying to make everything 'all better.'

Still lightheaded, Christine struggled to stand up, feeling her legs nearly come out from beneath her. Everything was fuzzy and disoriented, likely the result of both her fear and the lingering effects of the drug. She almost stumbled toward the edge of the balcony, her throat too dry for her to call out. An arm soon wrapped possessively around her waist, before half-carrying, half-dragging her away. No struggle or resistance was left in her.

He quickly took her out of the box and down a flight of stairs. An employee gave them a curious glance as they passed. Erik gazed directly at him. "My _wife_ is ill," he stated. "We are leaving early." The young man didn't dare question the shadow with the yellow eyes, quickly stepping backward and permitting them to go by. Christine numbly allowed him to drag her out, still in somewhat of a state of shock. As they stepped outside, the cold air of the night partially awoke her. She blinked in the darkness. Several groups of people passed by but paid them no notice, as if they had both blended into the night.

Erik continued to tightly hold onto her as they walked forward, more to keep her from falling to the ground than to prevent her from escaping. At the very least, he seemed to have some comprehension that he was making her ill...shattering her nerves...eroding her sanity. Christine's eyes finally fell on the familiar black car that sat outside the glow of the streetlights. She blinked several times, realizing that a man was standing beside it. Her heart rate increased again, as she wondered what other horrors she would face that night.

"Leave," Erik stated, unfazed as he approached the figure.

The man stepped forward, his face mostly concealed by a brown ski mask. "But it was to be tonight," he replied in a gruff voice. "You said..."

Christine felt Erik's hold on her tighten, wincing as his long fingers dug into her shoulderblades. "Plans have changed. There is to be no finale. Leave."

"The hell there isn't!" the man exclaimed. "Where the hell is that remote? This place is going up!"

Christine looked between them in a daze. With an agitated sigh, Erik released her and opened one of the car doors. "Go in, Christine." She just stared up at him for a moment, her eyes pleading for some sort of mercy that night. "I said to go in," he repeated with dangerous impatience.

She had no choice but to obey, climbing into the warmer backseat and closing her eyes as the door was shut. After she had sat in the terrible silence for barely over a minute, the other door opened and Erik quickly climbed into the vehicle. "Drive," he commanded. The car instantly lurched forward. "I did the country a favor by ridding it of him," Erik muttered to himself, looking back once before settling into the seat. "There is no finale. There will not be one tonight. It was not his decision. It was mine. No. It was yours. It was our decision."

Christine just stared forward with her fists clenched, not daring to utter a word or make a sudden movement. She unintentionally flinched as Erik's cold hand touched her shoulder.

"You're afraid of me now," he frantically continued. "You will learn not to be as our years together pass. You will learn to love me. In time, you will learn." She could only nod. "We will see everything together. Side by side. Forever..."

"All right," Christine whispered. "We will."

"Let us have music!" Erik called up to the front. "Something jubilant for the occasion."

As a lighthearted melody began to play from a violin, Christine continued to stare forward. Her terror had turned to a resigned numbness. She suddenly felt Erik cling onto her hand, his cold flesh against her clammy palm. His golden eyes watched her with desperation, wanting her continuous reassurances. Had he really expected her to push the green button? How awful did he think she was?

In spite of it all, she found that she still didn't loathe him. There was just sadness. For herself and for him. As it now stood, she was a prisoner and nothing more. Her warm feelings of earlier were no longer significant, for she had never had a choice in the matter. If they still remained, they were completely lost amongst the madness and hatred of that evening. Raoul's likely demise continued to gnaw at her heart, causing several tears of mourning to run down her cheeks. What had Erik done to her friend? If only she had never involved him...

At least she had managed to save dozens of other people. At least there was that.

Christine glanced up as a cellular phone rang beside her. Erik released her hand and picked it up. "Yes?" he answered with agitation. A long silence followed. "No," he calmly replied into the receiver "I will take care of it." He hung up and saw Christine gazing at him with silent and fearful curiosity. "We will leave this place soon, my dear," he stated. "I will ensure that no one comes between us, try as they might."

Her lips parted to say something, but she quickly fell silent.

Nothing remained to be said.


	38. Chapter 38

I have to admit that I was nervous about posting that last chapter, and I'm glad that you all enjoyed it. It was draining to write. At the same time, I wanted to keep within my current vision. I'm sorry if I depressed everyone, but I hope that you continue to enjoy the story. There will likely be two more chapters and an epilogue after this one.

**Read and Review!**

Nadir cursed once and quickly glanced into the rearview mirror, before stepping onto the gas pedal and swerving to pass a truck. Raoul drew back in the seat, nervously looking to the side as the two vehicles came dangerously close to touching. He took a breath as the Iranian quickly pulled ahead and the highway became less congested. "I hate city traffic," muttered Nadir. "I'm beginning to hate everything about this city."

Raoul just tiredly nodded, growing more anxious as he saw how many minutes had passed since they'd begun their journey. It was already nearing eight in the evening. They'd said little to each other for some time, save for Nadir's occasional complaint about traffic or the weather and Raoul's quiet murmur of agreement. Outside, the sky was completely dark, the clouds covering all moonlight and the air thick with cold moisture. A feeling of urgency followed them, and Nadir had come dangerously close to getting a speeding ticket several times. Still, luck had been on their side, and they had continued forward with few delays.

"At least we're past rush hour," Nadir stated, leaning back into the seat. "That would be a nightmare. It would take us at least several hours to get through the mess, and that is assuming no accidents." He sighed. "We might as well not even bother."

His companion glanced up with a disconcerted frown. "We've got to at least try to get to her! We can't just...leave her like that! She'll end up dead."

"No. You are right. I'm sorry to be such a pessimist. Just ignore me. It has been a long couple of months."

"Yeah," Raoul replied. "It's fine. I'm just...worried about her. He paused. "A couple of months? Is that how long you've been here? I remember when you were trying to talk to Christine that one day." He shook his head in disgust. "Jesus! You were probably trying to warn her..."

Nadir chuckled sadly. "I was. But...let us not dwell on what might have been. As to your other question, I've been in the United States for a little over a year. Only for the past few months was I in Vermont."

"Why? I mean...you just happened to run into this...Erik again? Sorry for the questions. I'm still trying to figure all of this out."

"I ran into Erik because I had been searching for him for years. It was just luck that finally led me to him after all that time, if you can call it that."

Raoul hesitated before continuing, wondering how much distress he was causing with each question. "Why were you looking for him? Weren't you the one who saved his life?"

"I was. That is why I felt responsible for anything that happened." Nadir paused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and staring straight ahead. "After Erik disappeared, a bunch of..._things_ went missing with him. Weapon design plans, some samples of the nonperishable chemicals...even a few biological agents. The government of Iran was furious. As I was Erik's closest thing to a friend, I was somewhat suspected of aiding in his escape. It was best for me to leave the country before I ended up dead."

"So...you were trying to find out if Erik still had the weapons?" Raoul asked, his facing becoming whiter in slow realization.

Nadir nodded. "The thought of what Erik might do with those things haunted me. I wasn't so sure if he would use them himself, but just think of whom he could sell the wretched things to! Thousands could be killed with mere ounces of some of those substances. If anything happened, it would be my fault."

"Oh my God..." muttered Raoul. "Christine accidentally inhaled some of that stuff! It nearly killed her! That's why she finally tried to escape. You don't she was permanently hurt, do you?"

Nadir's eyes widened. He was silent for several moments, disdainfully thinking back to the past. "If she has shown no symptoms by now, I can think of very few agents that would continue to cause harm. But still..." He sighed. "It is nothing to toy around with. I should have never..." He stopped and focused his eyes upon the road in silence. They passed several residential areas, both gazing enviously at the people who were contently going about their lives inside the illuminated houses.

"You couldn't have known..." Raoul quietly replied, feeling the need to give the older man some kind of peace. Nadir said nothing in return for several moments, slowing the car slightly as they passed a police vehicle.

"So that was the only reason Christine planned to go with you? She found the chemicals?"

Raoul chuckled wryly. "She had a ton of reasons to go with me. The guy kidnaped her, drugged her, scared the heck out of her when she took off his mask...And..." He swallowed. "The main reason was the body she saw in this one room...the same one where she found the chemicals."

Nadir rapidly turned to face him, causing the car to sharply veer into the next lane. He quickly regained control of the steering wheel, shaking his head in self-disgust. Raoul released another sigh of relief as the vehicle went back on track. "A body?" the Iranian asked, now gripping tightly to the wheel. "She saw a _body_?"

"Well, she saw a sheet covering something that looked like a body. But it had to be! This guy she knew...this producer...Piane...he disappeared. Right after he gets in contact with Erik, he disappears. What else could have happened?"

Nadir hesitated. "Now wait a moment, young man. Erik may be a very capable killer, but he usually has at least a scant reason. He is not careless. Are you sure?"

Raoul sighed with irritation. "I don't know. But does it really matter? Look at everything else this guy's done! He's killed before. You've seen him torture people! I had to get Christine out of there! She was going to end up dead!"

"I know. I understand. But...this Mr. Piane...who was he? I saw nothing in the papers of such a death."

"He was a producer. Christine auditioned for him. It was in the_ New York Post _the other day."

"That still makes no sense, especially if the man was there to help Christine." Nadir paused in thought. A strange expression suddenly crossed his face as Erik's words returned to him.

_I have been infiltrated with informants_...

_They are everywhere, Nadir. Relentless. They have even used her to get to me. But they have failed. _

The Iranian murmured something in a foreign tongue and shook his head.

"What?"

"It is possible that this Mr. Piane was working for the FBI, trying to use Christine to find out more about Erik. Or at least Erik may have thought that to be the case. That might explain it. If that were true, then the man is likely dead."

Raoul perked up. "The FBI knows about Erik, then? Maybe we can get their help...It sounds better than charging into this by ourselves."

"They are helping just fine," Nadir replied with a glare. "It is my fault they are involved at all. I was using a retired agent to get information on Erik's whereabouts, and that has already ended up in at least one death...No. It is best to leave the government out of this until the end. I fear it would only cause more chaos to involve them."

"But don't you think..." Raoul sighed. "Never mind."

Nadir side-glanced the young man. "No. If you feel I am doing something wrong, then by all means inform me. I certainly have made a mess of things so far."

"I just can't tell if you're still protecting the guy! If it were me, I'd have a police team here. I mean...this guy is a threat to security. He's a murderer...a kidnapper...God knows what else. They've put people to death for less than some of the crimes he's committed."

The Iranian silently turned off an exit and into the heart of the city, making his way through the lines of cars as quickly as possible. He turned left at an intersection, and they were soon traveling between lighted stores and restaurants. People constantly pulled out of parking spaces, heading home after a night of shopping and dining. When he had again found open road, Nadir spoke again, his voice even. "When it becomes necessary, I will consider phoning the authorities. Let us just see where the night leads."

Raoul nodded in resignation. "All right."

Slowing the car down significantly, Nadir began to closely look around. They were now in an older section of the city, surrounded by boarded-up buildings and cracked pavement. Several homeless people stood on one corner over a trash can fire, likely searching for somewhere warm to spend the night. "We are close," he stated, dimming his headlights slightly. "I have often seen them drive this way. If we are lucky, the car will come through here at some point."

"He brings her _here_?" Raoul asked, looking around at the urban decay.

"It is a good place to hide," Nadir stated with a shrug. "I would have to guess that Erik's home is more accommodating than it appears on the outside."

"I hope so," he muttered. "So now what? We just wait?"

"We wait for a bit. Maybe drive around a little. I..." At that moment, Nadir's cellular phone began to ring. He looked toward it with a frown, quickly pulling the car to the side of the road and parking it. Raoul swallowed, subconsciously gripping onto the gun. "Stay very quiet," the Iranian stated, before reaching down and answering. His eyes wearily closed at the icy voice.

"Good evening, my friend. You are out rather late for a man of your age. Don't you know that the city can be a dangerous place at night?"

Nadir retained his composure. "Erik." Raoul's eyes widened, but the Iranian signaled for him to keep silent.

"I have been informed that you are currently located somewhere you really should not be. Perhaps you should leave before you are harmed." There was something especially eerie about Erik's voice that night.

"I am not going anywhere," he calmly replied. "I think it is time for you to tell me what you are doing with Christine."

"Christine is where she is supposed to be! I told you she would return, didn't I? Well she has! And it is none of your concern. She is mine...soon to be my wife. If you attempt to interfere, there will be no more second chances."

Nadir started to reply that he knew Christine wasn't there of her own free will but stopped. Something occurred to him, and he refrained from making the statement. "Well...let me see her for myself, Erik. Maybe she did return to you, eh? Didn't you say something about inviting me over to visit? I would certainly enjoy that."

Erik laughed coldly. "I'm afraid that the invitation has been cancelled." A pause followed. "Besides, my friend. You have larger problems to concern yourself with. Like the fireworks I have so carefully placed in the Metropolitan Opera House. Perhaps you should ensure they have not gone off yet. They can often be unstable."

Nadir's eyes narrowed. "You are lying! There is nothing there."

"Am I?"

"You are trying to distract me! There is nothing in that building. No more games. Now where is the girl, Erik! What have you done with her?"

"Ah yes! Christine can tell you of the marvelous fireworks. Would you believe her lovely words?" Erik must have handed the phone over, for there was a rustling noise, followed by shaky breathing.

"Christine?" Nadir cautiously asked. Raoul started to call out to her, but Nadir waved his hand rapidly for silence.

"Yes?" she asked, a quiver in her soft voice.

"Are you all right? Tell me where you are."

"No, my dear," Erik commanded in the background. "Tell him only of the fireworks! Nothing more. He will try to separate us, and we cannot have that."

"There's..." She choked slightly. "There's explosives..."

"Where, Christine?"

"In the opera house. Under the seats...I..."

Erik took the phone back. "She is very tired tonight, I'm afraid. In fact, so am I. Leave us be...we are fine now. Go remove the fireworks and be useful. If you journey forward any further, you will not see the morning. Go, Nadir. Forget everything. Retire somewhere warm, and leave me and my love alone. We are fine now."

The phone quickly clicked off, leaving him with only the dial tone. Nadir cursed and leaned back into the seat, placing his hand to his forehead in distress.

"What's going on?" Raoul frantically asked. "Is Christine okay? What's he doing?"

"Christine is...alive. Erik claims to have placed explosives in the opera house. Although I think it is merely a distraction, I cannot be sure. I do not know exactly what to do."

"Explosives!" Raoul sighed. Nothing was beginning to surprise him anymore. "Why didn't you want me to speak? Maybe she would have told me something."

Nadir smiled slightly. "That is where we may be one step ahead, my friend. Our meeting was such a coincidence that even Erik couldn't have anticipated it. If he has people watching us, which I now assume he does, it is too dark for them to see inside the car. Erik does not know you are here. That is a blessing. It is why I did not let him know that I knew of Christine's kidnaping. Only you would know that."

"Oh." Raoul looked slightly confused. "So now what?"

"He advised me to leave...to check on the opera house. I won't, though. He will not win this mind game. Besides..." Nadir picked up his phone. "If he did rig it with explosives, there is more than one way to clear a building."

Raoul watched as he dialed the operator. "Please give me the main office of the Metropolitan Opera House." A silence followed before Nadir spoke again, his accent thicker. "Powerful explosives are to go off tonight in your auditorium. Many lives will be lost in the name of jihad , Allah willing." He uttered something in Farsi and hung up. Raoul gazed at him in shock, beginning to look like he was about to jump out of the car. Nadir shrugged. "They will certainly empty and search the building now. I can only hope that the phone number is not traceable."

Raoul slowly settled back into the seat. "You...you really think he put explosives in there?"

Nadir sighed "It is possible. Erik has reached a level of madness I have not ever seen. He is desperate to escape with Christine. If need be, he will destroy anything in his path to keep her. We are in for a long night."

Raoul gripped the gun. "Are they still going to come past this way?"

"I believe so. Erik would not care about my presence here, otherwise. They are returning...although they will likely not stay for long. I imagine Erik plans to get out of the country with her. At least out of the state. Tonight is our only chance."

"My God," Raoul murmured. He had been skeptical of Christine's fears the entire time, thinking she has just been captured by some nutcase off the streets. Now that he realized what they were dealing with, her paranoia made sense. They should have been more careful. They should have driven to Canada and never looked back.

Both sat there in silence for some time, staring out at the desolate streets as the tension in the air continued to grow. Nadir considered driving around for a while, searching for anything that might remotely look like Erik's hideaway. That would be impossible, though. Their best bet was to wait...to pray for good fortune.

"Is that it?" Raoul suddenly asked, glancing toward a moving vehicle with its headlights off.

Nadir squinted. "No. It is too small to be the car. We had best keep an eye on it, though. Erik may have someone following us."

"You mean he has people working for him, too?"

"I would imagine so. Erik has built...his own little underworld throughout the region. Few probably know exactly who he is, but his presence is powerful enough that they do as he says. Given enough money, most people will work for anyone."

"Oh." Raoul suddenly felt exhausted, again wishing they had brought the police into this.

Nadir glanced back up and looked out the front window. His eyes widened. "There it is! Get down!"

Raoul crouched low in the seat as Nadir slowly drove forward with his headlights completely off. Few streetlights illuminated the road, causing them both to frequently be cast in dark shadows. "What's going on?" Raoul asked, growing uncomfortable on the cramped floor.

"Erik already knows I'm here. The other car is attempting to get in my way. If we are stopped, my best advice is to take your gun and run as fast as you can." His normally calm voice was shaky, as if he knew that the coming battle might be unwinnable.

"Run to where?"

Nadir hesitated. "If you want to live, somewhere far away. If you want a chance at getting your friend back...try to keep up with the black car...Do what you wish." He turned a corner, watching as the long vehicle finally stopped to the side of the street. The area of the city was one of the worst he had seen, some of the roofs on the cracked buildings nearly caving in. No one else was out on the dark streets. Something told him they were very close, perhaps even there. He frowned as he saw that the smaller vehicle had also stopped. The front doors opened, and two intimidating men emerged, wearing handkerchiefs over half of their faces and carrying large objects in hand. "Stay down," Nadir whispered.

Reaching under the seat, the Iranian suddenly pulled out a shiny, black gun. Raoul blinked but stayed silent as Nadir opened the door and climbed out of the vehicle. He could hear muffled voices outside, followed by the sharp sound of a gunshot. Raoul cringed, breathing heavily and slowly raising his head to look outside. One of the strange men had fallen, and the Iranian was currently involved in a struggle with the other one. Suddenly, the man took the heavy object he was holding, a metal pipe of some kind, and slammed it into the back of Nadir's skull. With a sharp gasp, the Iranian clutched his aching head and stumbled backward. "Go!" Raoul faintly heard him call out, before he fell to the pavement and disappeared from view.

Eyes wide with horror, Raoul threw open his door and climbed out of the car. The remaining man looked up in surprise and began to run toward him. Raoul ran in the direction of the parked black car, attempting to get his gun ready with one hand. The sound of footsteps thudded behind him, but his adrenaline kept him moving quickly. His fingers fumbled for the trigger. In the glow of the streetlights, he suddenly saw a flash of blonde hair near the dark vehicle. _Christine_. A towering figure emerged as well, blocking her from his view...encasing her in a shadow. Raoul's eyes narrowed. He gripped onto the gun.

_Yes...he would make it..._

* * *

_Minutes Earlier_

Christine watched as Erik clicked off the cellular phone and tossed it to the side. Trembling slightly, she then turned around to look back out the car window and gaze at the passing buildings, a heavy feeling laying in her heart. Minutes ago, Erik had forced her to tell Mr. Khan of the explosives. She had been so disheveled that she could barely speak. Looking back, Christine wondered how Nadir had even known to come find her. A part of her was too tired and defeated to care.

"That idiot thinks that he can tear us apart!" ranted Erik. " He had better not interfere. I will ensure that he does not touch us. My hands will not even be the ones to do away with him, as I will not permit him to get that close. Nothing will come between us!"

Christine said nothing, allowing herself to be mesmerized by the city lights and to escape her surroundings. She couldn't get through to him when he was acting like this. It was an unbreakable wall of insanity.

Erik continued speaking, craving her attention...her conversation...her affection. "There are better cities than this. Much better ones around the world. We will see them all together."

She wearily nodded, feeling entirely drained of all energy. At the moment, she wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep, escape this entire thing. Another part of her wanted to go back and change things from the beginning. What if she had called Raoul earlier and told him not to come? What if she had never gotten her friend involved? What if she had attempted to escape Erik earlier?

_What if she had never believed a disembodied voice was speaking to her? _she thought with somewhat bitterness. So many what ifs...

"You will enjoy the world, Christine. I can take you anywhere...We can even wed in a country of your choosing...live in a place of your choosing. Everything can be ours."

"That's fine, Erik," she softly replied, unable to hide the frustration in her voice. Christine almost shrieked as he clutched to her shoulder with his bony fingers, his eyes a bright shade of yellow. Taking his other hand, he gently ran it through her soft hair.

"I can give you anything! You will be happy. You will. You are mine, Christine. But Erik is yours, as well! I am at your feet! I will give you what you want, if you love me."

Tears began to fall from her eyes. Her fingers dug into the seats. "I know. Fine. Please...let go of me," she pled. She couldn't take this desperate insanity any longer. There was no room for reason or understanding or hope. She couldn't talk to him when he was like this. He would make her completely insane with his ravings and pleas for affection.

He released her shoulder and drew back, clenching his fists. "Fine. I will not touch you. He was allowed to, but I am not. And why should I be? But you are still mine! And perhaps you will long for contact someday...even from my cold, dead hands. Yes. You will love me. You will have no choice!"

Christine continued to cry, releasing all of her despair...her fear and loss. She didn't care if it angered him, burying her flushed face into her hands and heaving with sobs. Her whole body ached with anguish and exhaustion.

"Oh...do not cry!" he moaned. "You will not always be unhappy. You won't. In time."

"Erik," she managed to choke out. "I wasn't always unhappy! Until you did this! You killed my friend! You terrorized me...You..." She rapidly shook her head. "Never mind. I don't have a choice, right? It doesn't matter what I think. You wouldn't even believe me if I told you. It doesn't even matter..."

"You lied to me!" he roared. "You were going to leave with _him_! You lied!"

"I had a right to go with him!" she bitterly replied, beyond caring what he would do to her.

He grabbed her left arm, forcing her to look at him and into the two fiery orbs. "No! You cannot! You said you would stay with me. You vowed! There was no finale! You said you would stay."

Christine gazed at him in defeat, her face pale and tear-streaked. "I will stay," she whispered. "He's dead now, anyway. Like I said, it doesn't matter what I think. I'll stay."

Erik released her arm and turned away from her, silently staring ahead...perhaps becoming even vaguely aware of the bottomless pit they were both falling into. She momentarily glanced at him, searching for a sign of humanity or reason, before looking back out the window with a shaky sigh. Seeing the faded paint and boarded-up windows, she realized they were nearing Erik's home. Christine doubted they would be there for long. Erik clearly planned to get her out of the country.

As the car slowed to a stop, she attempted to open her door. Not to her surprise, it was locked. Erik climbed out first, glancing into the distance with a look of malicious satisfaction. "Your time ends, my friend," he softly murmured. "Everything ends except for us. Except for my bride and I."

He then swiftly came to the other side and opened her door. Christine climbed out of the car without looking up at him, hugging her arms to her chest and shivering. Blindly, she started to make her way forward to the familiar concrete steps, Erik always hovering right beside her. She wondered if he would just let her go into her bedroom and lie down.

At that moment, she suddenly sensed something running toward them from the right. Glancing up, her eyes widened in shock as the figure passed under a dim streetlight. Raoul was racing toward them, his feet pounding the pavement and his hands holding something high in the air. _Her friend was alive! _Not even injured!

Christine gasped, both in relief to see him and in horror of the coming confrontation. Seconds later, Erik saw him as well. Hatred burned in his eyes.

"He has not learned," Erik hissed. "Oh...but he will learn tonight."

"No!" she gasped, now realizing that Raoul was holding a gun. Christine started to run toward him, trying to stop his approach before someone truly did lose their life. "Don't! Go back!" Erik grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her backward, obviously taking her franticness as a desire to escape...interpreting her relief as love for her childhood friend.

"You are mine!" he rasped, jealousy dripping from his voice. "You will stay away from him. Take one last look, my dear, for tonight is the last time you will ever see your lover's perfect face!"

Erik began to walk forward, almost seeming to float over the pavement with his smooth, quick stride. Raoul's eyes widened as he desperately tried to ready the gun, obviously shocked at how fast his opponent was moving. Finally getting a finger on the trigger, her friend quickly raised the weapon. Erik was mere feet away, his skeletal hands reaching out to form their deadly grip around the young man's neck.

Christine could do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and pray. She waited, feeling the earth tilt beneath her feet. Each second that passed seemed like an eternity.

No gunshot ever sounded out into the cold night air.

She should have known from the beginning who would win the encounter.


	39. Chapter 39

Thank you as always for the amazing support. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun to write without it. There should be only one more chapter and an epilogue after this one. As there are so many varying opinions, it's impossible to have an ending that everyone wanted. Although both negative and positive comments are encouraged, I do hope that you don't judge the entire story by its ending. But, like I said, say whatever you feel.

**Read and Review!**

When Christine finally opened her eyes to the sight in front of her, she felt her heart constrict in pure horror. The gun was now laying on the pavement, tossed to the side as if it were nothing. Erik was holding Raoul up nearly two feet over the ground, both hands tightly wrapped around the base of his neck. Her friend had begun to gag and squirm in pain, kicking his feet and turning a grotesque shade of purple from lack of air. If the hands tightened their hold even an inch, the bone would be cleanly snapped. Looking behind his tormentor, Raoul gave Christine one last desperate look. "Run," he weakly mouthed to her.

She did the only thing she could. Clutching her hands to the side of her head, Christine screamed.

"Don't! Please! Please don't. Don't! Don't, Erik! I'll do anything! Don't!" Between her tears and sobs, she continued to beg, her voice growing more hoarse with each plea. "Please don't. Don't...don't...don't..."

From the distance, she saw Erik's shoulders stiffen at her fading cries. She watched as Raoul's eyes finally closed, and his body went limp from oxygen deprivation. Her mouth fell agape, and she felt her legs nearly give way from beneath her. "No," she choked out, clutching the side of the apartment complex for support. "Please no..."

As soon as Raoul became motionless, Erik suddenly released his grip on the neck and let his body fall to the ground with a thud. He turned around to face her, his yellow eyes full of anger and torment...crazed longing. Christine just stared back at him with her lips pursed in anguish and her breath coming in short gasps.

"He is merely unconscious," Erik stated through what sounded like gritted teeth. She quickly looked down to the ground to see that her friend's chest continued to rise and fall. A reddish tint was returning to his cheeks. Erik continued to speak, his voice cold and calm. "Whether he lives tonight will depend on your cooperation, my dear. If you again attempt to betray or defy me...to question me in any way, the boy will die."

She rapidly bobbed her head up and down, feeling some relief overtake her. The earth stopped spinning beneath her feet. "Yes," Christine frantically replied. "I understand. I promise I won't run. We can just go. I promise."

After giving her one last icy glance, Erik grabbed her friend beneath the arms and dragged him forward, acting as though he weighed ounces. She quickly followed behind, wincing as Raoul was roughly taken down the concrete steps. Still, color continued to return to his flesh. _He was alive! _Erik had not done the unthinkable! After everything, he was live!

She had no more time to think, racing down the steps and following Erik into the familiar sitting room. He continued into his chambers and opened the hidden gray door with a key, no longer concerned that she would attempt to run from him. Christine just watched, her heart racing in continuous worry that Erik would take his explosive anger out on her friend. She prayed that he would calm down and listen to her words of explanation. Now that she knew Raoul was still alive, her hatred and despair had faded, leaving her with a desperation to fix this mess. _Please let him listen to her!_

Still, Erik's rage continued to reign supreme. He turned to face her, eyes still flaring with hatred and jealousy. "Perhaps if I pour this onto his face," he growled, " I will be on more even terms with your lover, no?" Erik took a glass vial off the counter and raised it threateningly over Raoul's mouth and nose. "If he had no flesh, worse than a death's face, would you love me?" he rasped, violently shaking the yellowish liquid.

Her eyes widened, but she tried to stay calm, praying she could reach him."Erik," she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "Please don't do that. It's not..." Christine choked. "It's not about that. Please don't. Please listen to me."

"Oh, I have listened to your lies long enough, my dear!" he hissed. " Just think...the acid would eat his skin...and there would be nothing left of his perfect features. Would you still love him, then? Would you!"

"Erik, please!" she cried. "Please listen. I..."

"Go pack!" he screamed, fists clenched and skeletal frame shaking in rage. Raising the glass bottle, he violently hurled it into the opposite wall. She jumped as the glass shattered into hundreds of tiny shards, and the yellow liquid streamed down the white paint and onto the floor. After dropping Raoul to the ground and shutting the door to the room, he whirled to face her. "Unless you wish your lover dead, go ready yourself. Change out of the black dress. I will not have my bride looking as though she is ready for a funeral! We leave in one hour! You will come with me! You will marry me! Go!"

Obediently, she turned around and flew back into her bedroom. From behind her, she heard the piano begin to play a loud, angry melody; a staccato sound that was almost painful to listen to. With trembling hands, Christine numbly began to gather up some of the clothes from the hangers, placing them inside of a suitcase she had found in the closet. Tears rolled down her cheeks, pooling at the corners of her mouth. A nauseating sensation lay in the pit of her stomach. Everything had become so completely wrong. She felt helpless, too small and meek to fix this nightmare...to reach him through his madness. She was pathetic and weak, too afraid to make her own choices without someone there to hold her hand.

Christine sat on the floor and buried her head into her knees. All she ever did was run away. Nothing she did was ever right. _Nothing._

No. That wasn't completely true.

Through blurry eyes, Christine looked up and saw the shimmering diamond bracelet laying on the dresser, the one that Erik had given her before she left. It dawned on her at that moment. Twice that evening, she had diverted Erik from his path of destruction. At the opera house, she had stopped the explosives from going off and killing hundreds. She had saved Raoul's life that night. In fact, why had Erik not just killed her friend from the beginning? Maybe he had somehow known it would destroy her...and anything that was left between them. Whatever the reason, she knew that Raoul was alive because of her.

In some way, she was able to reach through and touch some human part of Erik's mind. She bit her lip and stared into space for a moment, gathering what was left of her shattered nerves. Before they both descended into madness, she would fix this tonight. Or at least she would try.

Christine set down the white blouse she had started to pack and quietly emerged from the bedroom. The piano had stopped playing, leaving all the rooms in complete silence, save for the ticking clock. She continued to pad barefoot across the carpet, ignoring the eerie stares of the figurines as she passed. Finally, she found him still in his dim chambers, facing the wall with his masked forehead leaning into his right hand. He didn't acknowledge her presence. Her shoulders tensed as she approached, and she braced herself for another storm.

"Erik." Her voice came out weaker than she meant it to be.

"Why aren't you packing?" he hoarsely whispered.

She swallowed and held her ground. "You have to understand...that I wasn't trying...I wasn't going to leave."

"Your lies do not matter now. Go pack your things. We leave soon. Unless you wish his life to end, do as I say."

"Please listen to me. It doesn't have to be like this. You're scaring me right now...and I..."

"I have a fine habit of doing that!" he hissed, whirling around to face her. "Now do as I wish!"

"Erik," she pled, forcing herself not to take a step backwards. " I thought you'd killed him. But you didn't...and I'm...grateful that..."

The mention of Raoul only served to anger him more. "I _will_ kill him...if you do not get in there and ready yourself to leave. _Now!_"

He wasn't letting her finish, staring down at her with rage and daring her to defy him. If Erik was pushed, she had no doubt that he would harm her friend. There was such desperation in his two glowing eyes, as though he were still afraid she would attempt to run. So much was built on fear...

She was silent for a moment, ignoring every ounce of reason that told her to run back into her bedroom and hide like a child. Giving up on spoken words, Christine slowly reached out and tightly grasped his two cold hands with her own. Entwining her fingers into his, she hesitated before gazing up at him. Her heart throbbed quickly beneath the black dress, and she wondered if he would violently push her away. How many times would she have to try before giving up...before it was declared useless? But if she could just reach what was left of his humanity, as she had two times before, maybe...maybe there was hope. "Please," she whispered.

Erik didn't push her away. His narrow shoulders tensed, and his eyes continued to beam with anger. Still, he grasped onto her hands for several seconds in silence, and some of the rage seemed to dissipate, slowly replaced with wary uncertainty. The blanket of quiet repaired more than anything she could have said.

After several moments, as he had done only a week before, Erik slowly brought her hands up to his masked face. Taking both of them into one of his palms, he brought his free hand up to the bottom of the black porcelain. Erik hesitated, waiting to see if she would run from him. Christine just looked on, her blue eyes lighting up a little at the direction events were taking. Continuing to watch her reaction, he lifted the lower portion of the mask, revealing the pale, twisted mouth she had never forgotten. Taking her hands, he raised them upward and closed his eyes, before touching her slender fingers to his lips.

She found them cold and dry to the touch, but not unpleasant. He held her hands there for several seconds, his eyes still peacefully shut as he savored the contact. "My bride," Erik softly stated as he finally released her. He started to set the mask back into place. She reached up and lightly grabbed his thin wrists, her own small hands easily fitting around them.

"Wait. Please..." She had wanted her second trial for some time. Why not now...before they left together forever? There was so little to lose that night, and almost everything to gain.

Erik froze, both hands still holding the mask. "You should go pack," he stated, the anger gone from his voice. "We will leave soon."

"I know. I will. But...please. If we're going to be married soon, then I...I want to be able to. Let me."

It felt strange to say that..._.married_... But maybe it was no stranger than anything else that had happened in those last months. She was no longer afraid. With her friend alive, nothing had been permanently broken. Of course, she was still a prisoner, but her current actions weren't done with that in mind. There was genuine hope now.

"No matter what you see..." Erik began. "...how horrified and repulsed you are...you are still bound to your promise. Perhaps it is better for you to pretend there is something else beneath..."

"No. Please let me see. I don't want to pretend anymore. I'm tired of pretending. It doesn't even matter...I just want to see tonight." She held her breath and waited. A small part of her was afraid that she would want to run away again.

Erik paused, before slowly nodding, perhaps also realizing that there was nothing left to lose. "If it pleases my _wife_." He untied several transparent strings with both hands and slowly removed the entire mask, thereby revealing the catastrophe that was his face. Christine stared into the two dark sockets for a moment...the grey and yellow mottled flesh that was lined with veins...the lack of nose. It was just as terrible as it had always been, something from a horror movie, even. After everything that had passed, though, the thought of running and screaming seemed absurd. She smiled a little, feeling strange relief that she was able to look without fear...even without turning away.

As Erik saw that she wasn't going to fall over dead from the sight of him, his shoulders relaxed. A little shiver ran through her as he gently brought a hand up to her cheek, both from the outer cold sensation and an inner warmth. "I would give you anything," he softly stated. "Anything...Christine."

"I know," she murmured, choking back several tears. Taking her hand, Christine placed it over his, transferring her heat into the icy skin. They stood there like that for several moments, time freezing around them in the dim little room. She glanced up as Erik started to pull his hand away, observing the deep longing in his hollowed eyes. An impulse overtook her, a need to console and connect...to bring both of them peace and resolution that night. " Erik."

Raising herself to the tips of her toes, she gently grasped onto his bony shoulders with her hands and drew forward. Erik's arms lay limply at his sides, one hand still clutching onto the mask. Christine felt him completely freeze beneath her, as she tilted her head and slowly pressed her warm lips to his. The kiss wasn't long or terribly deep...perhaps only lasting a couple of seconds, but it was an intimate meeting of flesh nonetheless. She swore she could feel his heart beating beneath her own. Both closed their eyes, drowning in those untouchable moments of human contact.

She felt dampness on her cheek and wondered if she'd begun to cry again. Slowly drawing back from the kiss, Christine saw that the moisture came from the two sunken eyes. Erik was staring down at her and silently crying. He seemed unsteady on his feet, leaning back into the wall with a heavy sigh of exhaustion and wonder. Feeling her own eyes grow blurry, Christine bravely stepped forward and took his free hand, a small smile lighting her flushed face. "It's fine now," she softly stated, finally believing her own words. "Everything is fine."

Erik continued to stare down at her, still somewhat in shock, and slowly nodded. A haunted look entered his eyes, an awakening, and he momentarily released her hand and quickly tied the mask back onto his face. She continued to gaze up at him, preparing to turn around and begin packing again at his request. After the porcelain was secured, he reached out and gently touched her hair with his fingertips, before bringing his hand down and again entwining their fingers together. Erik then began to walk forward, leading her without looking back. She smiled through her tears, wondering if was taking her to the piano. Perhaps he wanted her to sing a final song before they left together...a prelude for a new beginning.

Christine narrowed her eyes in confusion as he led her past the ornate instrument and toward the hidden gray door in the back of the room. Removing a silver key from his suit pocket with his free hand, he quickly unlocked it with a click and opened it. After taking a glance at Raoul to ensure that he was still breathing, she looked back to see Erik pick up something off the counter.

For several long seconds, he was silent, his gaze on the floor and his thin shoulders heaving with deep breaths. He then spoke in a strangely distant voice.

"Hold these beneath his nose for several seconds. He will immediately awaken, although it may take him time to gather his bearings. The front door will be unlocked, and the car is still out front. The driver will be instructed to take you wherever you wish...someplace secure for the night. Perhaps _his_ home."

Christine blinked in confusion, looking back and forth between the two other people in the room. "What?" she murmured. "I don't understand."

Erik closed his eyes, and his cold grasp around her hand tightened. Then, staring down at her with nothing less than adoration, he finally released his grip and backed away, as if knowing that being so near would make the task impossible. "It ends now," he whispered. " You see...the finale came tonight, after all." He closed his eyes again. "And what a glorious finale it was..."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "But I..."

"Leave, Christine," he hoarsely interrupted. " Reclaim all that has been taken. Forget everything that has occurred on this night...for these months. Go."

"Why?" It was the only word she could get out of her mouth.

"Because ...you are free now." After giving her one last lingering glance, he swiftly turned away from her and left the room, leaving the door half way open for them to make their final departure. Clutching the smelling salts in one hand, Christine just stared at the spot where he had stood for several seconds. The sound of Raoul's quiet breathing was the only other noise in the room.

Kneeling down to the floor in a daze, she touched her friend's cheek. The skin was warm, and his breath was steady. Erik hadn't restricted his oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage. Outside of the soreness from the purple bruises that ringed his neck, he would soon be fine.

_Why?_ _Why now, Erik?_

He still didn't believe that she ever meant to return. He really had no reason to do so. And she had never told him that she had...that she still did...

Christine swallowed and gripped onto the smelling salts, feeling a thick lump form at the back of her throat. She touched her lips and stared at the linoleum floor, her heart aching with a sense of loss. For a moment, she felt hurt, almost rejected. That was childish, though. Erik had given her what he believed her to want, was releasing her from the madness that would likely accompany them. He loved her enough to realize that nothing good could ever come out of what they had...

Maybe...maybe it was better if he never knew the truth...that she did deeply love him...that she _would_ have stayed by her own will.

He would never let her go if he knew such things. He would tightly cling to her, and they would forever be swept into some unknown horrible, wonderful place.

Perhaps she should take this chance at freedom and normalcy...awaken her friend, flee into the night, and ignore the chaotic emotions that were tearing her apart. Wasn't that right thing to do?

_Or was she just running away again?_

As tears flowed down her cheeks, she thought she heard noise in the background. The shutting of a door, followed by quick footsteps. She disregarded the sound as silence returned, tightly folding her arms into her chest. The room felt cold now, tiny goose bumps dotting her pale flesh.

She sat there in thought for several moments. Her gaze idly drifted somewhere and suddenly stopped. Christine blinked twice, feeling her heart skip a beat. Laying the smelling salts to the side, she slowly stood up from the frigid linoleum. She walked to the back of the shadow-covered room, directly toward the counter against the wall.

No matter how the night ended, there would be no more secrets...nothing else done in fear alone.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grasped the two corners of the white sheet with both hands. With only one more second of hesitation, she pulled it back with all of her remaining energy. She looked down.

And then she cried.

And she laughed.


	40. Chapter 40

**Well, I hope no one minds that this isn't the last chapter**. There will be one more after this, along with an epilogue. Either this chapter was going to get ridiculously long, or it was going to feel rushed, so I decided to break things up. On the positive side, I could have left you with a terrible cliffie but decided not to. Enjoy :)

**Read and Review!**

As soon as Nadir Khan opened his eyes, he felt a torrent of pain crash down upon his skull. The pavement was frigid beneath his cheek and hands, and a warm, wet substance trickled down the side of his face. He could only assume that it was crimson-colored. Groaning as he lifted his aching head off the ground, Nadir glanced around in the dark to see if any of his attackers remained. Looking backward, he saw a body laying motionlessly upon the asphalt. He shook his head, thankful that he still had good aim.

But where was the other man? For that matter, where was anyone? A shiver ran through him as he thought of Ms. Daae's and Mr. Chagny's possible fates.

In the distance, he could still see the long black car parked in front of a decrepit apartment complex. Sitting up, Nadir allowed a brief wave of nausea to pass, his head still continuing to pound from the attack. Scrapes and bruises lined his arms and hands from where he had fallen.

He again glanced around to find the other assailant, finally spotting the man standing several yards away from the black car. Erik had likely instructed him to keep watch. At the moment, his attacker had a relaxed and unalert posture, just now putting out a cigarette and adjusting the handkerchief back over his face.

As silently as possible, Nadir sat up and hid behind his car, extremely grateful that the man had assumed him to be dead. He sighed in relief as he saw that his gun had slid under the vehicle, before quickly retrieving the weapon and readying it for use. After all he had been through, it would take more than a head wound to put him six feet underground.

Grasping onto the gun, the Iranian stood up and stepped into the shadows, before quietly moving toward the black car. _At least you have taught me something about surprise attacks, Erik_. Nadir still felt disoriented from the injury, his vision blurring and spinning before coming into focus. His body felt weighed down with pain and exhaustion, and he knew that medical attention would be needed soon.

At the same time, a determination accompanied him as he moved forward. The Iranian was dead set on ending this tonight, no matter what fate he met. No more destruction and chaos would come from the hands of one man. Perhaps the damage had already been done, for Christine and Mr. Chagny could already be dead. After tonight, though, it would all be over. Tonight, Nadir was determined to atone for his fatal mistake of over a decade ago.

Gathering all that was left of his energy and courage, Nadir stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the man around the shoulders with one arm. With his other hand, he dug the barrel of the gun into his skull. The man let out a shocked grunt and began squirming in an attempt to fight back, freezing as he realized that a deadly weapon was aimed directly into his head.

"Now," whispered Nadir, slightly out of breath from the short struggle. "Tell me where they are. Where is the girl? Where are they?" The man remained silent, panting heavily from fear and exertion. Frustrated, the Iranian dug the gun in harder and continued. "If you don't tell me where they are, I will shoot. Do you understand?"

Finally, the man slowly spoke. He was younger than Nadir had thought. "They're down that stairwell...right over there." The man pointed. "I think he killed the guy...at least hurt 'em. I don't know. I'm just keeping watch."

"You swear this to me?" Nadir asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah! I swear! Jesus. Just don't tell him I told you...He'll rip me apart. I'm gonna get outta here soon. I swear. This place is insane!"

"Maybe you should be more careful of whom you work for," Nadir bluntly stated, before whacking him over the head with his gun. The man grunted and fell unconsciously to the ground. After checking his dark surroundings one last time and seeing nothing, the Iranian slowly approached the concrete steps, looking down into the void below. He hesitated for several moments.

Was he sealing his doom by going down alone? Was now the right moment to call the police? Nadir sighed. No. There was likely little time left, and he had no idea of what street he was on or what the address of this hellish place was. It would end up a mess, possibly with more deaths than needed. Frankly, he should have listened to Mr. Chagny and called earlier. The boy had been right. He had been protecting Erik the entire time, indirectly contributing to this catastrophe.

But it would end tonight.

Taking a breath, Nadir descended down the cracked steps and into the darkness, clutching the concrete sides for support. When he finally arrived at the bottom, already noticing a drop in temperature, he at first believed himself to be surrounded by three solid walls. Squinting, though, the Iranian could see that there was a door on his left, painted almost the color of the gray concrete. Finding the knob to be strangely unlocked, he again hesitated. What if there was some kind of trap awaiting him on the other side? Brushing away his fears, he slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

All was quiet and still, with only a single dim lamp lighting the room. Stepping through the door, he found himself in a sitting area. Immediately, he knew that the home was without a doubt Erik's. Nadir recognized some of the figurines on the shelves from Iran, noticing the oddly-shaped furniture and black sofas. The room was luxurious yet eerie. Drawing his eyes away from the decorations, he looked around for some sign of life. The silence of the home made him uneasy, and a shiver traveled up and down his spine. What had occurred in those twenty or so minutes?

Gripping the gun tightly and always on the lookout for a surprise attack, he finally noticed that a light was on in a nearby room. The door was just slightly ajar. Nadir approached and grabbed the silver knob, before slowly opening it.

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared forward in shock.

Erik stood alone in the middle of the room with his back facing the door. His bony hands were folded behind his narrow back, and his gaze was forward. He did not acknowledge Nadir's presence in any way.

Once he had recovered, Nadir took a quick glance around the room; noticing the jewelry, female hair accessories, and florally decorated objects. A blonde-headed doll sat on one shelf, and several skirts and blouses were strewn upon the floor. It was obviously where Christine had stayed. _But where was she now? _Continuing to hold the gun up, he was finally able to get himself to speak. "Erik."

A short period of silence followed, in which Nadir could feel his muscles tense in apprehension.

"You are still alive," came a toneless reply.

"I am," Nadir answered through gritted teeth. "By some miracle, I survived your onslaught. Now where are they, Erik? What have you done with them?"

Erik slowly turned around, showing no reaction to the weapon being pointed at him. His yellow eyes were strange and distant, really like Nadir had never seen them before. Erik's gaze fell upon the head injury. "You really should find a hospital."

Nadir glared and kept his finger over the trigger. "No more mind games. No more delays. Now where are they? Are they even alive?"

Another silence passed. Erik looked away, staring at some of the objects in the room. "I would suppose they are," he finally replied. "Yes. I am sure they are fine. She is a very capable girl. A wonderful girl..."

"Stop this!" Nadir shouted, feeling his head swim with pain. It occurred to him that he was beginning to lose a bit of his own sanity. "I will not let you go this time. Do you understand? There will be no more destruction caused by you...no more death and suffering. Mr. Piane? Ms. Daae? Mr. Chagny? Where are they!"

"Piane?" Erik distantly questioned. "Piane was using her marvelous talent to gain access to me. And the authorities were using _him_! No one would allow us peace! No one would allow me..." Erik stopped his rant and quickly regained his composure, the fury fading from his eyes. "It is of no concern. Piane will bother no one now, especially not her. No one will bother her. He is gone."

"Dead, you mean? You killed him?"

Erik waved a disinterested hand in the air. "Simply gone, Nadir."

Nadir let out a growl of frustration. "Damn it, Erik! Be direct with me! Where is the girl? Do one decent thing in your life and tell me!"

The eyes glowed. "She has left by now, I imagine. With him. And she will be happy, Nadir..." He folded his hands together as though in prayer. "She will be happy..."

The Iranian ignored the emotions welling up inside of him, not knowing what to think now. "Erik," he choked slightly. "This has to end tonight. It must. I had hopes that..." He sighed. "It does not matter what I thought. I am just begging you to tell me exactly what you did with them."

Erik slowly nodded. "Yes...It must end, mustn't it? Are the police on their way? I will not be a spectacle on television, rotting away in a prison for decades. Or perhaps you chose to grant me my dignity and not call? Ah...it does not matter, I suppose. It will end either way...before they arrive."

Nadir's eyes narrowed in distrust. "Why are you giving in so easily, Erik? Is this another mind game?"

"No," he whispered, clenching his hands. "No more games, Nadir."

"Then, _why_?"

"Because..." Erik hoarsely began. "I will never have another day like today. There is nothing left after today...It was my finale. Should you not shoot, I doubt I will go on much further..." Nadir thought he heard the remnants of a sob beneath the black mask. "I love her..."

"Where is she?" Nadir asked, his tone softer.

Erik gestured toward the door. "The car...she took it to somewhere safe...She will be safe with him, I am sure. Yes...she must be." He momentarily placed his masked face into his hand, rubbing his temples with his fingers, before looking back up with renewed calmness. "Now...my friend. Let us not draw this out for hours."

Nadir clenched his jaw. "You are lying! The car is still out there! I passed it on my way down!"

"You hallucinate, my friend. As I said, you need medical attention. Or else..." Erik looked toward the door longingly before quickly glancing away. "No...It does not matter. Now end this, if you intend to do so. After all these years, you still manage to test my patience. It rather is a miracle that you are still alive."

The Iranian could feel his hands shaking and becoming moist with perspiration. He swallowed. "Why couldn't you just change, Erik? Why? Why so much destruction? I let you live so that you could change! Every day, I woke up worrying about what havoc you were wreaking."

Erik sadly chuckled. "So correct your mistake, my friend. Give us both peace on this night."

Nadir blinked, realizing that this truly wasn't a game. He could see it in the fading glow of the yellow eyes. Something significant had happened in those last minutes...something to put Erik in severe emotional distress. "First tell me what you have done with her. The car is still there."

"I did not harm her!" Erik rasped. "She is free, Nadir. Do you hear me? The angel is free!" He clenched his fists. "Now do as you must but ask me no more questions. End it, if you will. Or I will end it myself!"

"Why must you always be on my conscience?" His hand trembled with the gun. "I release you, and I'm guilty of the chaos you cause. I kill you...and your blood is on my hands." He let out a frustrated sigh, still unable to push down on the trigger.

"Then you truly cannot win," replied Erik, taking a slow step forward.

"No. You're right. I suppose I cannot." Nadir paused. "Why aren't you escaping? You could have easily killed me by now..."

"As I have said repeatedly, there is nothing left for me. I will never have another day like today. I will never be touched again, nor will I ever see her. I will wander this earth for the rest of my life with only a memory." Erik reached out a clawed hand. "End it, Nadir," he choked out. "I will die soon, anyway. I...cannot breathe. I...need her."

Nadir stepped backward, feeling moisture gather in his eyes. "Stop it, Erik. Just..." He grappled for the gun as Erik continued his approach, wondering if he was going to survive these next few moments. "Please, Erik! Step away!"

"Now is your chance, Nadir. To end it. To free us both..."

As Erik came dangerously closer, darkly looming above him, Nadir closed his eyes. Out of pure self-defense, he raised the gun. "Allah help me," he whispered, as his finger came down over the trigger. He then fired, sending the single shot reverberating throughout the home.

Breathing heavily, he kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to know what lay before him. The silence in the room began to confirm what he thought to be true. Wasn't it what he had intended, though? To end this tonight? Yes...Yes...It was supposed to be this way...There was no other way for it to end...No other way... Still, a feeling of nausea again passed over him.

No vindication or satisfaction would come from the act.

* * *

_Minutes Earlier..._

Christine continued to stare down for several moments, blinking in slight shock and wiping away stray tears. She allowed the sheet to float to the floor tiles. Maybe she should have been disturbed, but she found that the sight was sadly humorous. And...even somewhat beautiful. This is what she had run from on that fateful day?

There was no body underneath the white sheet...no death or great horror.

Beneath the white sheet lay Erik's hopes. His ideal reality. For both of them.

Most of the bulk had consisted of a custom-made white wedding dress, closely fitted around the torso of a dressmaker's doll. It was the kind seen in the store windows of the most expensive department stores in New York City...the sort of dress women stared at for hours, all the while knowing that they would never wear it. The puffy gown was formed with layers upon layers of silks and satins. The waist and hem were dotted with sparkling sequins, and a long, lace veil lay to the side. The dress couldn't have cost less than five thousand dollars. Christine knew without a doubt that it would fit her perfectly.

There was also a small velvet box next to the ensemble. She didn't even have to open it to know what jewel was inside. The one that currently lay on her finger, the onyx stone, that had been an engagement ring of sorts. Inside of the blue velvet box lay the wedding ring.

It was what sat beside the dress, though, that had momentarily frightened her. For a second, she truly believed herself to be staring at some sort of corpse. Then, she had laughed at her fear. Six empty eye sockets gazed at her from atop the counter, staring upwards from three separate masks. They were lined up in a row, molded and painted to look like real male faces...handsome faces...with perfectly formed red lips and fitted noses. The appearances differed here and there. One had a more narrow chin. Another had higher cheekbones. Still, all three were ideals of the human visage.

She shakily ran a hand over the material of the masks, surprised at how real they felt beneath her fingertips. It was some kind of synthetic, rubbery substance. There was no doubt that Erik had created them, as the careful attention to every single detail was obvious in each design. Only the unpleasant smell of paint and chemicals gave away that the flesh was an illusion. She briefly wondered how realistic one would look if it were put on.

Had Erik used his own face for the mold? Had he already tried one on, only to stare into a mirror and discover that some small but significant detail was off...that perhaps it would never look real...that perfection was unattainable?

She frowned and drew her hand away, feeling a wave of sorrow and emptiness wash over her. Her gaze trailed back to the elaborate wedding dress, and she lightly touched the lace on the veil. _Erik...if you only would have known..._With trembling hands, she slowly picked up the adornment and sat it upon her head. It draped over her blonde hair, lightly brushing her cheeks and dusting her shoulders. _What in God's name was she doing?_

From somewhere in the background, she thought she could hear sounds...voices, even. Slight curiosity tugged at her, along with worry about what was occurring outside. But what was she going to do? Run out there, find Erik, and ask him if everything was all right? No...once she fell back under the gaze of the golden eyes, there would be no going back. He could bear to release her only once, and she would ask no more of him.

Her mind wandered in frantic circles. Was he still out there, waiting for her to leave? Was he already gone? Christine swallowed thickly. It could be so very simple to awaken Raoul and run from this madness. And yet, her feet were fastened to the floor, and her eyes kept staring at that godforsaken wedding dress.

She should force herself to leave...force herself to grab the smelling salts and hold them up to Raoul's nose...force herself into the safety of the black car. Her gaze drifted back to where her friend lay. If Raoul were awake, he would make the decision for her with no hesitation. He would place a strong arm around her shoulders and lead her out of this chaos. And yet, she was on her own right now. It was her decision.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Perhaps it was the sound of the gunshot, echoing endlessly throughout the little home, that made the decision for her that night. As Christine looked toward the open door with her mouth agape in horror, she felt her stomach twist into a knot. _Please tell me he didn't..._

Forgetting everything else, she raced toward the exit of the hidden room and back into Erik's chambers. Seeing the bedroom to be disturbingly dark and empty, Christine frantically continued forward and into the dim sitting area. And at that moment, she knew. The decision was made in that instant of panic and adrenaline.

If he were dead or even forever absent from her life, a part of her soul would die. Even one year alive with him on some ethereal corner of the earth would be better than sixty long years without his gaze or his touch. It didn't matter what happened next. She wouldn't run anymore from that which was unknown. There was only this night and this decision. Yes, she would tell him the truth...she would tell him everything...

_But what if it were too late?_

Fear gripped her as she finally saw that a triangle of light came from her former bedroom. _Oh God...he had been in her room..._What would she find? Clutching the cold doorknob, she closed her eyes. With one final prayer, Christine flung the door open.

_Please tell me he didn't...Please tell me he didn't..._

* * *

It was a choked sob from behind him that finally forced Nadir to slowly open his eyes. 

He momentarily gaped as the room came into focus, not knowing whether he should be relieved or terrified for his life. Erik still stood alive and unharmed in front of him, although he had now backed up to a safer distance. Several feet away, a tiny bullet hole was engraved into the wall, mere inches away from the head of the porcelain doll. "And here I thought I still had good aim," Nadir sickly joked, clutching to a nearby dresser for support. He slowly looked back up to see that Erik's gaze was no longer focused upon him, but rather on the door. The eyes had returned to their bright shade of yellow.

Remembering the soft sob, Nadir cautiously turned around, his expression becoming one of shock. There in the doorway stood a very distraught and tearful Christine, adorned in a dreary black dress and a lacy white wedding veil. "I thought..." she began, her voice shaking. "Oh...Thank God. I thought that..."

Nadir limply lowered the gun to his side and looked back and forth, feeling completely lost in the situation. The poor girl was smiling now, exhausted relief in her pretty blue eyes. Erik was now oblivious to absolutely everything but her.

"Christine," Nadir softly stated, trying to draw her attention and bring control to the situation. "Everything will be fine. Go back out there and wait. It will all be over soon."

She paid him no mind, her glossy gaze focused elsewhere.

Before all sanity completely evaporated from the room, the Iranian dared to step between them.

He could practically feel the golden orbs boring into the middle of his back.


	41. Chapter 41

Well, here it is guys! The last actual chapter. (Sniffs) It is a long one, though. There is also a coming epilogue, which I've tried to make interesting. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Thank you as always for your support and reviews. They've really inspired me and even given me ideas. I'll try to respond to everyone over the next two chapters.

**Read and Review!**

"Christine?" Nadir bent down and gently placed a hand upon her shoulder, still trying to break her out of her trance. Slowly, she took her eyes off of Erik and looked up as if she had just noticed that they were not alone in the room. The fear had now vanished from her face, replaced with a strange mixture of delight, relief, uncertainty, and exhaustion. The Iranian spoke to her again, hoping to make some sense out of the situation. "Ms. Daae. I promise you that this will end soon. Are you well? Your friend...is Mr. Chagny okay?"

She quickly nodded. "Yes." Her voice trembled at first but became stronger. "He's back in the other room. Asleep. But he's fine."

"Thank goodness," Nadir muttered to himself. He looked back at her, attempting to discern her thoughts and failing miserably. She certainly didn't seem terrified, though. "Why don't you go on back out there? We'll get this entire thing cleared up. You will be able to go home soon." He continued to ignore the looming presence behind him, somewhat sure that Erik would not do anything too gruesome with the girl standing right there.

Christine remained in the doorway and again looked past Nadir, her eyes softening and a small smiling forming on her lips. "But we..." She swallowed. "Erik and I...were just about to leave together."

Nadir blinked twice. "Christine...we'll figure this out. I know you're scared, but..."

"No," she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm not scared. We were just about to leave. I...I was getting ready to go."

The Iranian drew back with a sigh and finally dared to look back at his masked comrade. Erik was silent, still gazing upon her as though mesmerized. With the mask on, his expressions were unreadable.

Nadir was puzzled. Christine's story was exactly the opposite of what Erik had just told him. Had he instructed her to say that? Was this merely another game? But then why would Erik have risked his own life moments ago? And the look in Christine's eyes was genuine and not easily feigned. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Finally, Christine spoke again. "We should leave soon. In case anyone comes..." Her eyes were again locked with Erik's.

"Christine," Nadir wearily stated. "I do not know what is going on, but..."

"I wish for a moment alone with her," Erik interrupted.

Although Erik's voice was calm, Nadir could tell that he had no choice in the matter...except to fire the gun again. Somehow, doing away with Erik at that moment seemed entirely inappropriate. The Iranian hesitated. "I..."

"A moment alone, Nadir," Erik again stated, a threatening note in his tone. His eyes remained upon Christine.

Slowly, the Iranian nodded and backed away from the couple, placing his hand upon the cool metal of the doorknob. "I will give you some time." He stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door, leaving the two lost souls with themselves. Still, Nadir prepared himself for the coming confrontation that likely lay ahead.

The serpent clock revealed it to be just pass nine. Only three hours were left in that strange day.

* * *

Christine turned and watched as Nadir shut the door with a sharp click, thereby leaving her and Erik standing only feet apart from one another in complete silence. Seconds ago, after she had seen with blessed relief that Erik was alive, it occurred to her that Mr. Khan could have called the police. Maybe even Raoul had. Time was short, and so much needed to be said. Inhaling deeply, she turned to face him again. Erik's eyes glowed with a medley of excitement, disbelief, and, not surprisingly, distrust. 

"Erik," she began, her tone steady. She stepped forward and reached out to him."I was so afraid that..."

Once again, he interrupted her first, making no move to come nearer. "Why are you doing this?" he shrilly asked. "You should have left long ago. You should be gone! Do you not understand that...you being here is..."

"Listen to me." She stepped closer and took his cold hand into her own. "I know you don't believe me. Maybe you never will. But I was going to come back. I _was _scared. But...I wasn't going to leave you. I promise."

He now drew her nearer to him, perhaps in both an attempt to strike fear and a need to be closer. "In terror, Christine?" he asked, looming over her. Still, though, the pained desperation in his voice was unmistakable. " In terror you would have returned? You knew I would follow you...to the ends of the earth, I would follow you! You knew that you could not escape me!"

She nodded, still looking up at him. "I knew that, Erik. But that wasn't why I was going to come back. I wanted to come back! Until tonight...when you..." Her voice shook. "Until tonight, I wanted to stay with you. I was going to tell Ra...him that I couldn't leave. I promise."

"And now?" he questioned. "Now do you wish to stay? Or do you come in here only to tell me that you plan to leave! That it was I who destroyed all chances...Oh, it does not matter, now!" He squeezed her hand tightly, his voice hoarse. "I am tired, Christine. I can stand no more of this...If you plan to go, then leave me now. Take your freedom and leave me to my peace."

"I was terrified tonight," she whispered, her eyes drifting to the ground. "Of you..."

"Then why are you _here!_" he rasped, misery gleaming in his eyes.

"I was more terrified than I've ever been in my life," she softly continued. "At the opera house...seeing Raoul like that." Christine paused. "And still, after everything, I couldn't leave tonight. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't go. And then when I heard the gun, I was so afraid that you'd...I just came running back." She choked away a sob. "I couldn't leave."

"Why?" he quietly asked. "It would seem simple enough."

"Because..." She again met his gaze. "I didn't want to leave you. I couldn't." It wasn't exactly what she had wanted to say, but it was a beginning. His eyes softened at the words, encouraging her forward. "I would have missed you."

"Ah yes," he bitterly retorted. "I am quite something one would miss in their life."

"You are, Erik. You really are."

She thought she saw a shudder run through him. A small moment of silence passed, and Erik slowly looked toward her pale fingers. "You have kept your ring," he quietly stated, running his thumb over the onyx stone. "Just as I asked..."

"I did." She smiled. "I don't think I ever took it off."

He touched the veil with his free hand, as though still searching for tangible proof that she was really standing before him. "You were not supposed to find this..."

Christine laughed through her teary eyes. "But I'm glad that I did! It was gorgeous." She took both his hands now and drew even nearer, so that they were almost touching. "Let's go, Erik. Wherever we were going to go tonight. We can convince Nadir to let us. Please. Let's just forget this night...or at least try. We'll just leave. I'm ready now. I promise."

His breath was unsteady as he looked down upon her. A slight sickness shown in his eyes...of a raging conflict erupting in his mind. "Never will I forget this night, Christine. Never. And I cannot...just go."

"Why?" she asked, the corner of her lips turning downward in distress. "Why not? We'll just leave like we were going to...except...in a better way. Why is it any different now?"

"If we go, Christine, " he whispered. "If I take you with me this night, I could never bear to release you again. We would be bound to one another. I would be what you would wake up to every morning for the rest of your life. Is that not a wretched existence? To see this face...to be in only Erik's presence...every day for the rest of your life? Until death?"

She slowly leaned her head against his thin chest, feeling his heart pound beneath her temple. Her eyes closed as she gripped his hands. Only an ounce of fear ran through her as she whispered the words that might forever bind her. "You won't ever have to release me. I won't run. This is it, Erik. It's my choice. I want to see the world with you. I...I love you."

There. She had said it. _Good God...she had said it._

He whispered her name from above. She felt him gently run his long fingers through her tangled hair, stopping before he ever pulled too roughly upon her scalp "My Christine." He sighed blissfully. "Perhaps I have finally driven your sanity from you, for you to make such a decision. For you to say such splendid things. My mad Christine."

"Maybe you did," she murmured, still leaning her head against him. "But it's still my decision. For once, it's mine. I want to go with you, Erik. Unless...you don't want me anymore."

"Want you?" He wearily chuckled, and she could tell the barriers were breaking down. He would soon not have the willpower to resist much longer. And why should he? It had been his hell to let her go. Even a man who was by all definitions normal would not have had such strength. "Do not play such ridiculous head games with me, my dear. I have effectively mastered every single one."

A short silence passed in which they just stood there, treasuring the seconds left in the safety of the small room before they returned to the world. Christine slowly raised her head and looked up. "Did Nadir call the police?" she asked with wide eyes, again fearing for time.

"I do not believe so. I believe that he actually did something intelligent for once in his life. But...sooner or later...they will come. Each day, they come closer."

She nodded. "Then we should go tonight. Like you planned. Before they do." Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation of his response._ Please don't make me fight any longer..._

Another silence passed. A look of both victory and defeat passed over his eyes, followed by one that could only be described as joy. Right and wrong had become inconsequential. Raw emotion had won in the end...the desperation of two people who had no where else to go but to each other. Erik's stature heightened.

"Perhaps we should."

Christine's tired face lit up, and relief overtook her. In another impulsive moment, she kissed his uncovered jaw line, before quickly drawing back. "I'll start packing again. I was almost done."

He gently stroked his thumb across her cheek. "We have time, Christine. So much time." Some reason quickly replaced the awe, and his shoulders straightened. "All that will be difficult is convincing one other person that you have not lost your mind... _without_ resorting to unusual measures." Erik paused. "And if your friend is awake by now...that will be...most unfortunate."

"Nadir will let us go." She frowned at the awful realization that it would be easier if Raoul did remain unconscious in these next minutes. It hurt her to not say goodbye, but how would he ever understand? No reasonable person would understand after nearly being killed...after all that had happened. To have both Erik and Raoul conscious and alert within the same house would be a living nightmare. Someone would be hurt. Christine now counted her blessings that Nadir was there, making no comment on Erik's last statement. "I'll start getting ready."

Erik merely nodded, momentarily closed his eyes, and then opened the door to the room.

* * *

Nadir watched as Erik calmly stepped out, unnerved by the renewed fire in the yellow eyes and the resolute stride. There was a will to live that had not been present moments ago, which could be a very dangerous thing. The Iranian had been pacing the entire time under the stare of a ceramic owl, constantly refraining from eavesdropping on the conversation. He now watched as Erik passed by him without a second glance. "What is going on?" he enquired, attempting to keep pace as they traveled to a back bedroom. He took a quick look around at the strange bed and piano. 

"We are leaving, Nadir," Erik calmly replied, beginning to gather up music sheets into his hand. He then proceeded to remove some of the more ornate objects from the shelves, fondly clasping an amber-colored glass scorpion in one hand, before placing it into a box. He moved with great energy, and Nadir was careful not to physically cross his path. Still, though, he dared to protest.

"What? No! You will not leave this house with her. She is just a young girl. Let her have her life, for God's sake."

Erik turned to him with a steely gaze. "I strongly suggest you make no move to prevent it. I suggest you push me from your mind, pretend as though I never existed. You should have done that years ago, my friend. It would have saved you trouble." He removed a stack of antique hardback books from a shelf and also placed them into a box.

"Erik. If you wish to escape, I do not have the will to try to stop you now. But leave the girl here! Do not drag her to the ends of the earth...away from everything that she knows. Have some compassion!"

Erik abruptly set down all the objects in his hands and faced him. Nadir automatically drew back. "She loves me," he stated, widely gesturing to her room. "She actually loves me. For myself. I cannot leave her after hearing such divine words...after feeling her lips...Nadir...Oh, you could never understand. And it would be useless to explain it to you! But do not try to stop me!"

The Iranian was momentarily speechless. "She's confused," he finally said, his voice less certain now. "Maybe she does have feelings, but...she is very young. Give the girl her life back, Erik. Let her have some chance at normalcy."

Erik's fists clenched and unclenched. "Nadir..." he stated, attempting to keep his composure. "Whether you believe my words or not, I have released her once tonight. It is not in my accursed soul to do it a second time. Not now. Do not ask."

"But it is..."

"Do not ask!" Erik proceeded to open a gray door that Nadir had not noticed until now. The Iranian cautiously walked over and looked inside, first taking notice of the array of cabinets and shelves. The next thing that caught his gaze was Mr. Chagny, lying upon the floor and steadily breathing. A ring of purple bruises lined the young man's neck. Erik had walked to the back and was gathering up what appeared to be a wedding dress, along with several indiscernible items.

"I suppose you will never tell me what all of this is, my friend?" Nadir wearily asked, looking around at the glass vials and beakers.

Erik chuckled, his attention still focused downward. "You will never stop with your questions, will you? I had to have something to keep my time occupied before.._.she _came to me. But know that I enjoyed this country far too much to ever bring anything vile upon it. You have no reason to fear an outbreak of any type. Does that answer your question well enough? Or do you wish me to prepare you a detailed report, Nadir?"

He shook his head at the familiar sarcasm. "That will do, Erik." Nadir sighed and looked at Raoul. "And what of him? I suppose it would be insane of me to wake him right now."

At this comment, Nadir received an icy glare. "Assuming you do not do something so completely idiotic, he will live."

Before Nadir could reply, Christine's soft voice came from the other room. "Erik?"

The Iranian watched as his companion peacefully closed his eyes. "It will be so good to hear her voice every day," Erik stated before turning in her direction. "We are in here, my dear."

She slowly walked into the room, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. A smile still lay upon her face, overshadowing the growing exhaustion in her eyes. "I think I'm ready. Not everything fit..."

"We will buy new things, Christine. Many of these possessions have become tiresome, anyhow."

Christine nodded. Her gaze drifted to where Raoul lay, and she bit her lip but said nothing. Nadir noticed her expression. "Erik. Let us step out of here for a moment." He wanted to give the girl more time to think about her decision. Surely she had to have some idea of what it would mean for her.

"Why?" Erik questioned. "Will you never leave me alone? Or am I going to have to subdue you?"

"Erik. Please. Give her just a moment."

Christine said nothing, but her gaze held a vague plea for one last goodbye.

"Fine," Erik stated, stepping out of the room with Nadir.

Christine brushed her fingertips against his hand as she passed. "I'll just be a second."

Nadir managed to position Erik so that he was turned away from the door. The Iranian was still able to see inside, watching as Christine slowly knelt down and kissed her friend upon the forehead. "I dare not even ask what she is doing," Erik wryly commented. His eyes softened. "It does not matter. She will soon be with me, Nadir. Me. And only because she wishes to."

The Iranian shook his head, observing as Christine murmured a few words of farewell. "You should still let her go," he said with resignation. "What do you plan on doing with her? She could be happy here, Erik. In time..."

"Nadir. Your words are growing ever irritating. Were I not in such good spirits, I believe I would have silenced you by now."

Nadir raised the gun a few inches. "I should end this. It would be the right thing to do. Before you take her. Before you bring havoc to another part of the world. I am crazy to allow you to take her like this."

Before he could respond, Christine had walked back into the room. She meaningfully stepped in front of Erik, causing Nadir to quickly lower the weapon back to his side. "I'm ready now."

"I will have the driver assist with our possessions," Erik stated, affectionately looking down upon her. He then pulled out the black phone from his suit pocket and stepped aside.

Nadir quickly bent down to Christine's level, looking her directly in the eye. "Are you sure of this, Ms. Daae? Do you realize what you are doing? If this is some sort of trick, now is the last chance you may have to tell me."

She laughed at the way he was speaking to her, as though she really were crazy. "I do know what I'm doing. Please let us go. We'll...be fine." She paused and glanced to the back room. Her voice softened. "And tell him...tell Raoul that I'll be okay. That he doesn't have to worry about me. And also...that I'm very grateful to him."

"But, Christine. He does have reason to worry..."

She backed away from him before he could finish, her eyes telling him that nothing he could say would change her mind that night. Erik finished his brief conversation and put away the phone. His eyes fell upon her. "We go now."

Defeated, Nadir finally stepped back. "Just where do you plan on going, Erik?" he questioned.

Erik laughed mirthfully, and the Iranian jumped at the unusual sound. He could clearly see it, though...the vividness in his comrade's eyes. How could he not be at least somewhat happy for him? "As though I would ever tell you such a thing! Ah Nadir...I hope this is the last time I ever lay eyes upon your miserable self. Retire, my friend! Enjoy the rest of your days somewhere warm! Push me from your mind."

Christine gave him one last small smile and picked up her suitcase. Erik placed his hand upon her free arm and slowly led her out of his chambers and toward the front door. He then quickly returned for several boxes, opened the exit, and lay them at the bottom of the concrete stairwell.

Nadir could do nothing but stand there, his shoulders slumped in resignation. Erik gave him one last glance...one of both gratitude and warning. He then took Christine's hand and led her outside. Someone else was now there, likely the driver to help with the luggage. The last thing that Nadir saw was Christine shivering in the icy air, followed by Erik quickly leading her up the concrete steps and to the warmth of the car. The door closed by itself behind them, perhaps hit with a current of wind from above.

And that was it.

He stared at the exit for several moments and sighed. For a few minutes, Nadir looked aimlessly around the sitting area, feeling his head continue to pound with pain. After some time had passed, he returned to the back room and knelt down, before picking the smelling salts up off the floor. He then held them up to the young man's nose.

Raoul blinked several times and coughed, before abruptly sitting straight up and looking around at his unfamiliar surroundings. Finally, he focused on Nadir, utter confusion in his eyes. "Oh my God. He...He...Where are we?"

The Iranian chuckled and tiredly took a seat upon the linoleum tiles. "Calm down. You are fine. You are in Erik's house. The fact that you are alive is nothing short of miraculous."

Raoul rubbed a hand over his sore neck, still staring at the strange setting. "Where's Christine? Did he...? Where is she?"

Nadir sighed and looked away. "She is gone now. I fear it may be best to forget her. I honestly think that she may be...okay. There is no need to worry about her."

"What? Maybe there's still time to call the police...to do something..." He started to get up, worry etched into his handsome features. "We've got to try!"

"No. I fear it is useless now. They left some time ago. Before I even arrived." The lie came easily, and Nadir felt no guilt...just exhaustion...so much exhaustion.

"But we..." Raoul turned around as Nadir let out a soft groan and leaned back against a cabinet door, clutching his skull. "Are you all right?" he asked, quickly coming over. "Your head looks pretty bad. There's...a lot of blood. Should I call a hospital?"

Nadir shook his head. "It is... best not to associate ourselves with this place," he stated between heavy breaths. "Let us...let us leave. Then we will find a hospital."

Raoul nodded and attempted to help him up, supporting him with one arm as they walked forward and out of the hidden room. He looked around at Erik's chambers, over toward the piano, the predatorial statues, and at the six-sided bed. "My God," he murmured. "This is where he lives? It's unreal."

Nadir squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to fade in and out of consciousness."Yes. And I prefer to forget it. The door is that way." He gestured forward, wanting to make it to the car before he completely collapsed. There was no way the boy would be able to drag him up the steps.

"All right." Tearing his eyes away from the odd sight, Raoul continued to the front door and opened it. He started to walk forward, then clutched his temples as he gazed up at the long, dark stairwell. "Jeez...I'm still dizzy." A pained expression crossed his face. Regaining his senses, Raoul began the trek up the concrete steps. As he climbed, still supporting a barely conscious Nadir with one arm, a feeling of weariness weighed down upon him. Finding Christine would be hopeless now.

With the help of what could have only been divine intervention, he finally managed to assist Nadir up the steps, across the street, and into the car. Making his way out of the maze of broken buildings and cracked streets, Raoul drove to the nearest hospital and got Nadir into the emergency room. Seeing his battered state, a nurse quickly pulled Raoul away for a medical examination. Phillip had finally picked him up around six o' clock in the morning.

Several times, Raoul had considered asking for or calling the police. He was so overwhelmed and disoriented, though, that he doubted his words would even be coherent. Besides, he had little idea of what had happened in his hour of unconsciousness. What would he say to them? A man in a black mask with abnormal capabilities had kidnaped his girlfriend? They would think he was crazy. Somehow, he doubted it would do much good, finally telling the hospital staff that he had just been involved in a fight. Still, Raoul continued to wonder if he'd ever see her again...if she was okay...if she was even alive. He dreamt of her that night. Maybe he would always wonder. Or maybe he would keep searching.

Nadir knew all that had happened, of course.

Late the next morning, the Iranian found himself in the intensive care unit of an expansive hospital. His head had been heavily bandaged in white gauze, and several clear tubes hung from his arm. The doctor assured him that no permanent damage had been sustained, though. Bored, melancholy, and on a dose of painkillers; Nadir had finally asked one of the nurses for an edition of the _New York Times_. Seeing the headline, he nearly choked on his orange juice.

_Near Disaster! Explosives found in the Metropolitan Opera House! Terrorists?_

Following the article about the bombs and evacuation were long analyses and expert opinions on the infiltration of America by its enemies.

Nadir leaned back into his pillow and tossed the paper aside with a morbid chuckle.

If only they knew it had all been done over a girl.

* * *

Christine was jolted awake by a loud roaring noise and a rumbling sensation beneath her feet. She opened her eyes, sat straight up, and looked around in confusion. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Turning to her right, she gazed out a circular window and into near darkness. On her left were rows of other people, many of them asleep or reading. Her breath quickened, and she felt momentarily disoriented. A hand immediately wrapped around her own, and she turned to look into Erik's steady gaze. "Do not be frightened, Christine. It is only minor turbulence." 

And then she remembered. She was on an airplane. Vaguely, she could recall clutching Erik's hand as the black car had driven north. Hours later, they had arrived at some small airport over the Canadian border. There had been quiet conversations and the exchanging of money and documents, followed by the direct boarding of a medium-sized plane. Others had been there as well. The two women sitting on the opposite side had their faces completely covered with scarves. An older man in a business suit had nervously drummed his hands upon a suitcase, his gaze constantly shifting right and left. In the front, she had heard a rapid conversation taking place in what sounded like German.

Erik had kept her close to his side throughout the journey, and she had followed him through the fog of strange faces and unknown locations. He introduced her as his wife on several occasions, commenting later that there was always less suspicion of married couples. She smiled inwardly, gathering that he simply enjoyed making the statement. At some point early in the flight, the day had finally taken its toll upon her. No longer able to process all that had occurred, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

Now wide awake from the motion of the plane, Christine swallowed and again clutched to Erik's hand. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"There is one more stopover. And then we go to wherever you wish! Name a place you yearn to see, my dear."

She hesitated. "Sweden." It was the first place that came to mind. "My great-grandfather was from there. I've always wanted to see it."

"Then we will, Christine. We will go to Sweden for several days."

He made it sound so simple. For another second, she panicked. The enormity of her decision brightly flashed in front of her...of all she had left behind in one night. There was nothing of her past, not even an old photograph. There was Erik. And there was her. Two souls permanently bound together, flying under a starless sky to somewhere unknown. Christine again gazed up at him and saw contentment in the two yellow orbs. A peaceful warmth replaced some of her fear. She leaned against his bony shoulder and stared ahead, quickly gathering her thoughts and composure.

_Yes, she loved him. _

The plane shook again, rocked by another gust of air as it traveled through thick layers of clouds. Were they over an ocean? Nothing beneath them but miles and miles of saltwater? Christine deeply inhaled, pressing her forehead against his arm.

"Are you sick, my dear?" he questioned, noticing the look in her eyes. "Exhausted, I am sure. But I do realize that air travel makes some people ill."

"No," she whispered. "No. I'm fine, Erik." Christine smiled and took another breath. "I...I was just thinking that it would be nice to get married in France."

Even without seeing his face, she knew there was a look of delight on his distorted features. He affectionately pulled her closer, claiming her as his bride...his queen and empress. She felt her shoulders relax. "A perfect idea, Christine. I will make immediate plans."

"Will we stay there?" she quietly asked, trying to picture what lay ahead...to give stability to all that was happening. "I mean...to live?"

"If you sincerely wish it, we could. But...I have made other arrangements somewhere else. Ones that you will enjoy, I believe. You see...my Christine." He took her hand. "The world is ours now. No longer will we hide from it. With you, I could thrive in it! We will take our place. And that place, my love, is very high up!"

"What do you mean?" she questioned, tilting her head and looking into his adoring eyes.

He pulled back his mask slightly, before laying a soft kiss to her forehead. Christine smiled, her eyes sparkling as a feeling of invincibility overtook her. It was fairly dark inside the plane, and no one else paid them any attention. And perhaps these passengers all had their own troubles to worry about, anyway. Perhaps they were all escaping something that night...these strange phantom people. Nevertheless, no one ever claimed to see the beautiful blonde and the man enshrouded in black.

"Did I not tell you that I would give you the world, my dear?"

"You did, Erik!"

"Then you will have it!"

_**FIN**_


	42. Epilogue

Here's the epilogue! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that it keeps in line with the rest of the story. I'll leave it open to your interpretation. Once again, thank you all so much for your support. It's been a wonderful ride, and your comments have really kept me writing. If I haven't replied to you yet, I will make every attempt to do so this time around.

**A Note**: If you are rereading this story, you will notice a change at the end of the epilogue. I agreed with some constructive criticism I received that the ending was a bit awkward. As a result, I cut part of it out. For those who are reading for the first time, don't worry. It was not a major part of the story and had nothing to do with E/C.

**Read and Review! **

_Four years later..._

Raoul Chagny watched with strained patience as two heavyset men muttered back and forth in Russian, wondering if it was time to change the course of his life.

For the last three and a half years, with the reluctant blessings of his older brother, he had taken any international assignment that came along within the family company. He had helped to establish smaller firms in England, France, and Germany. He had coaxed several Asian nations into making investments in the United States. Now, he sat within an expensive restaurant in Moscow, attempting to get a table of men to see the benefits of Internet commerce.

He'd become adept at the entire charade. He knew how to dress and what words to use, along with the mannerisms of most countries. Phillip had certainly been taken off guard by his success. "Maybe you're not hopeless, little bro," his brother had stated with a grin, looking over some financial statements for the year. He'd been in a better mood anyway, though, since his marriage to Sorelli three years ago. Raoul was only six months away from being an uncle.

When people asked why he was out of the country so often, Raoul simply answered that he wanted to see more of the world. That usually put an end to the questions. With each international travel, however, came an ulterior motive that no one ever knew.

In every country and city, he kept a constant eye out for any sign of _her_. He would make casual enquires to the locals with her description, only to be met with puzzled expressions. After all, there were millions of blonde-haired, blue-eyed women in the world. On one occasion, he had even made an attempt to describe her companion. All he could really remember to this day, though, was a pair of vengeful golden eyes glaring up at him as he desperately struggled to breathe. Christine's description of the death's face was not something easily repeatable, either.

Unfortunately, Nadir Khan had left the state within a month after the horrific night, leaving no contact information behind. Raoul had never gotten the chance to have a conversation with the older man, and he got the feeling that Nadir was avoiding him. The fact was that he almost believed Christine to be dead. Maybe Mr. Khan had just spared him certain gruesome details. If that was the case, then there was no reason to look anymore. Still, he sometimes feared she was being held against her will by that demon of a man...in some everlasting nightmare. It was that thought that kept him searching. In the process, he had learned to be an adept businessman.

At the moment, he was sitting at a long table in some kind of banquet room with fancy lace tablecloths and china silverware. On stage, a balding man in a tuxedo was playing a soft melody on a piano as people softly conversed around tables. The customers were obviously the richer of the country's impoverished population. Sitting on Raoul's left was Sergei, an owner of several prosperous businesses, and the only man he had come to know in his several days there. The rest of the men he was unfamiliar with, and some had already seemed to develop a dislike of him. At the very opposite end of the long table was the man who seemed to be in charge of the decisions. Raoul curiously glanced up, not able to get a good view of the dark-haired man's profile in the dimly lit room.

The person on his right, a high-strung man named Artur, finally spoke to him again. "We want to know," Artur began in a thick accent, gesturing toward the table, "how this will all affect the general populace."

Raoul shifted as everyone's gaze fell upon him. He was beginning to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something not quite right about this entire meeting. "No negative effects will come from it." He paused. "In fact, it will promote the use of technology throughout your country for those who are able to afford it."

Artur curtly nodded and passed the information along to those who didn't speak English. Raoul sighed. He had already been there for an hour and little was getting accomplished. It was as though this entire thing were a play where everyone was scripted to recite a question. No actual discussion was taking place. Looking up, he swore he caught the man on the end watching him. He tilted his head. "Who...is that guy?" Raoul asked Sergei in a low voice.

"Who?"

"At the very end. Who seems to be in charge here. Is he a manager of some kind?"

Sergei ran a hand over his beard and briefly glanced over."Ah. Someone from government, I believe I was told." He paused. "You should feel very honored, my friend. Usually our officials have no interest in this sort of thing. Your company must have greatly interested him." He nodded in approval.

"Oh." Raoul took a sip of his drink, a bitter wine of some kind, and leaned into the cushioned chair, waiting for the next question to be relayed back to him. He discreetly checked his watch and muffled a yawn. The piano stopped playing for a minute or two, before beginning again with a smoother legato melody. It was obviously a ballad of some sort. Seconds later, someone began to sing what sounded like a love song in Russian. But it wasn't the words that caught Raoul's attention. It was the voice.

He froze in his seat, listening as the soprano voice filled the room. All of the men at his table, along with the other people in the room, had stopped their conversations and looked up to the stage. Very slowly, Raoul turned around and did the same, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he looked up into the familiar face. There she was. Christine.

She appeared almost exactly the same, untouched and unblemished over these last four years. Her blonde hair had been styled into a long perm that swept over her shoulders. A glossy light-blue dress hung loosely over her slender frame, reaching to down near her ankles. Two dangling diamond earrings hung from her ears, and around her neck was a ring of tiny white pearls. Her eyes held a distant look, and a small, dreamy smile played across her mouth. She was beautiful, and yet, almost unreal and intangible. "Oh my God," Raoul murmured.

Artur quietly laughed. "Yes," he whispered, after taking a quick glance backwards. "She is a lovely picture, isn't she? Second time I have ever heard her, but she is not a face you forget." He released a sigh of immense appreciation.

Raoul swallowed thickly, his eyes still set upon his old friend. "I...I've got to see her," he murmured more to himself than anyone else. "I have to!"

Artur chuckled nervously. "I do not think so, Mr. Chagny! Not that girl. If you want women, I will tell you where to find some fine ones! Beautiful ones with everything you could ask for! Just ask me! But _not_ that one. "

"No." Raoul finally turned to face him. "You don't understand. I know her! She's a friend from a long time ago. I need to meet with her."

"Shhh!" exclaimed Sergei, looking at them both with a frown of irritation. "Let us enjoy this performance in peace."

With a frustrated sigh, Raoul obediently turned back around in his seat and just continued to watch her. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, continuing to smile without focusing her eyes in any specific direction. The room was completely quiet now, save for the sound of her voice and an occasional awed whisper. Wives were constantly casting glances of jealousy toward their husbands.

Finally, the song came to a soft ending, and the piano fell silent. Immediately, the room erupted into a tumult of applause, several of the men standing and clapping wildly. Christine murmured her appreciation into the microphone and took a quick bow. She then backed up several feet before turning around to head off of the stage.

Raoul started to get up from his chair. He stopped when he saw the strange man at the end of the table suddenly arise first, slightly surprised by his daunting height. Now, Raoul could also clearly see the man's face, and there was something not quite right about it. The skin around the cheeks and nose had an unnatural shine. The entire profile seemed too frozen and inflexible, particularly the lips. Raoul squinted upwards, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The looming man looked down upon him, before speaking in plain, perfect English.

"Your propositions are very intriguing, Mr. Chagny," he began in an unforgettable voice. "I will consider each one very carefully." Although the man's eyes were small, Raoul swore he saw them glimmer. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to meet with _my_ wife."

Raoul gaped. Only a few of the other men, including Sergei, seemed slightly surprised by the revelation. "Who was that?" Raoul again asked, after he had found his voice. When all he received were shrugs and side-glances, he shook his head in exasperation and continued. "I need to speak with that woman." He started to get up from his seat.

Artur roughly pulled him back down by the arm. "My friend, let us not walk that path. The lady is married." He glanced around once before leaning in closer. "They say that a drunk man tried to...get a bit close with her after a performance one evening. The next morning..." He made a slashing motion across his neck with his index finger. "You leave that woman alone. Like I said, if you want women, I will find you women. But not her."

"Do not scare the American!" Sergei exclaimed. He sighed. "That is not true. Just a story."

"It was true!" Artur retorted. "I had a good friend whose brother saw the body!" They chattered back and forth in Russian for a second, leaving Raoul to look bewildered between them.

"Who is that man? Her husband?" Raoul finally interrupted, preparing to get up before Christine disappeared from his view.

"Someone you do not ever mess with," muttered Artur. "The rumors are..."

"Would you close your mouth!" Sergei harshly interrupted him and turned toward Raoul. "He is a government official. Nothing more. As I said, it was an honor for him to meet with you tonight. He must think highly of your company."

"Like hell he does!" Raoul muttered, finally jumping up from his chair. He ignored the protests of Artur, quickly walking forward and watching as Christine tightly took the man's arm. Her husband quickly escorted her out of the room and through a back door, as people continued to congratulate her from a distance. Raoul waited several moments after they exited, before darting forward and heading out the same door. He found himself on a sort of landscaped walkway that was situated between the restaurant and a luxurious hotel. As it was early summer, flowers bloomed from scattered patches, and the trees were thick with green leaves. A warm breeze swept through the air, and the sky was growing darker as sunset approached.

For a second, he lost complete sight of the couple and panicked. Turning, though, he saw them slowly making their way over the concrete sidewalk and toward the towering hotel. Keeping his head low and attempting to stay hidden behind the shrubbery and various decorative statues, Raoul began to follow them. Few other people were out, and he prayed that he would remain unnoticed.

"Did I do well?" Raoul heard her hesitantly ask. "I think my voice was flat at the end."

Her husband laughed, the sound slightly muffled. "My dear Christine, you will always doubt yourself, won't you? You brought the room to its knees as you do every time. No man could take his devouring eyes off of you." He seemed to pull her closer to his thin frame. "And yet, fortunately, you remain mine alone."

Christine turned her head, and Raoul could see a small smile on her red lips as she leaned her cheek into her husband's shoulder. "I do," was her soft reply. They walked forward in silence for several moments. Christine suddenly stopped and put a hand up to near her right ear, releasing a short gasp. "Oh no! Did I lose one of my earrings? I can't feel it!"

Her husband gently turned her around by the shoulders to look. "It is merely entwined within your hair, my dear." A note of amusement was in his voice, as he pulled the dangling piece of jewelry out of her tresses and handed it to her.

"Oh. Good! I always seem to misplace things." She shook her head. "What would I do without you?"

Her husband laughed richly, although the sound still sent a shiver down Raoul's spine. "That is something you will never have to dwell on." He looked down upon her as she leaned her head back against him. "Are you very tired?"

"Nearly dead!" she said with a light laugh. "That song was difficult."

He nodded. "Then we will return to our room to rest."

Christine sighed as they walked in the direction of the enormous hotel. "It does seem a shame to go in so early when we're leaving the city tomorrow. We could look around for a while."

Her husband brushed his fingers against her cheek. "You are looking exhausted, my love. We will return to the city another day. Later this summer, perhaps. I think it is best to return to our room this evening."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes. You're right. Maybe another time."

They continued to walk forward, Christine's hair glinting under the descending sun. Her head turned slightly as her eyes trailed over the gardens, a smile still on her lips. Raoul felt a sort of dull sensation overtake him. She seemed happy. The former Christine Daae genuinely seemed content. Still, he continued to follow them up to the door of the hotel, concealing himself behind a tree with a thick trunk. There was still the question of this man. It had to be Erik, and yet there was one obvious detail that said otherwise.

The question was soon answered.

To Raoul's surprise, the man suddenly led Christine away from the entrance and toward an alcove at the side of the building that was partially obscured by pillars. He still had a decent view of them, though. Christine's husband gently took both of her small hands and placed them at the sides of his temples. She looked up curiously, and he nodded toward her. "No one is around, my dear. I wish to feel the daylight before we retire."

A look of delight graced her face, and she eagerly nodded. Raoul then watched in shock as she dug her fingers into the side of his head, before peeling back a rubbery mask from his forehead down to his chin. Christine might as well have been ripping the very flesh off of his face. Raoul felt his stomach clench at the newly revealed sight. It really was the face of death and decay, three dark sockets engraved into sallow skin. The head of black hair was nothing more than a realistic looking wig.

He then observed in horrific awe as Christine stood upon the tips of her white dress shoes and kissed the pale, twisted mouth. It was not a chaste kiss either, but a deep and long entwining of lips. Erik closed his eyes, or at least the yellow dots disappeared for several moments. As her arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders, her husband trailed his hands over her hips and waist, pulling her torso closer to his thin frame. Raoul had to use the rough tree trunk to steady himself from the shock.

He nearly had a heart attack when the yellow eyes then opened and focused directly upon him. For a moment, Raoul thought his life would come to an end right there. The eyes, however, showed no surprise and were fixed only in a steady gaze. Raoul now understood, feeling stupid for not realizing it before. Erik had known he was behind them the entire time.

Christine drew back with a happy sigh. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned around, causing Raoul to quickly duck back behind the tree. "What are you looking at?" he heard her ask in confusion.

"Nothing at all, my dear. Simply thinking."

"Oh!" She turned back to face him, her arms still wrapped around his neck. "What were you thinking about?"

"Only of you."

She smiled and giggled, giving him one last kiss on his sunken cheek before pulling away. "Well...I am heading back to the room. I think I'll go straight to bed. I'm exhausted."

"And I will join you," he replied, adjusting the rubbery mask back onto his face and straightening it. Christine pulled open the door slightly, and her husband held it open for her. Erik looked back toward the tree for another moment, an unidentifiable look in his eyes, before following his wife inside and closing the door behind them.

Raoul stood there in silence, wondering just how much of that evening had been set up. He guessed most of it...from the 'business' dinner, to Christine's performance, to the walk outside. Erik had been in control the entire time. Was it a cruel form of gloating, to show him that Christine was indeed his, and that she was quite content being married to a man with a skull for a face? Was it a display of power...a warning that Raoul had no chance of getting near to her? Or was there some charity in the act? Erik had shown him that Christine was alive, well, and happy. It had somewhat put his mind at ease.

Somewhat.

Even away from the glowing lights of the stage, there was a dreamlike quality to Christine. She was strangely naive. Whatever Erik looked like...whatever his current unwholesome activities were...it didn't matter to her. Christine was happy, doing what she loved in a world that had been specifically created for her delight.

Raoul understood one thing now, and it was enough to make him keep his distance and stay silent. Christine was safe. Maybe others were in danger of the skeletal hands of this strange man. But Christine was safe. And she was genuinely happy and enamored. And she was undeniably loved in return. That was enough for him, he thought.

He stood there a few seconds longer, before turning around to walk in the opposite direction. A few other people were now making their way around the gardens, a young mother with a stroller and an elderly couple. The wind continued to rustle the leaves of the trees, and the sun continued its steady descent. Even as he neared the end of the walkway, Raoul's mind stayed back by the tree. As he started to turn a corner and exit the gardens, he gave one last backward glance. Gazing upward toward the higher floors of the hotel, he swore he saw a curtain move, followed by a face staring down at him from a window. He stared back for several seconds. The face disappeared.

Maybe it was just a bored guest looking down upon the city.

He turned the corner and was gone.


End file.
